


A Greater Pursuit

by Malliday



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because you know I can't write a fic without an inordinate amount of sexual tension, Bickering, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Future Outtake Added, Museum Curator Clarke, Relic Hunter Bellamy, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Snark, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 10:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 141,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16659697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malliday/pseuds/Malliday
Summary: Clarke was perfectly happy with her life, thank you very much.She had a great job, a great boyfriend, and a great health insurance plan.Sure, she had the occasional run-in with undesirables, but all in all, she was happy.Everything was great.And then she opened that stupid, cryptic email.And she unwittingly agreed to attach herself to one Bellamy Blake, aforementioned undesirable and Indiana Jones wannabe.Now?She just wanted to make it home alive.And fine, maybe she wanted Bellamy to make it home alive too.Maybe.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Guysssss, it's HERE!
> 
> I can't believe I'm officially posting the prologue to my SECOND fic :D :D :D
> 
> This is crazy.
> 
> In case you haven't read the summary or the tags, this story is crazy different from The Biggest Moment.
> 
> TBM began by my desire to write a fic that encompassed all of my favorite Bellarke tropes. Greater Pursuit exists because I wanted to write something AU-wise that I haven't seen before.
> 
> That and I looooove Indiana Jones, National Treasure, and Tomb Raider, sooooo....
> 
> Here you go! My take on the Action/Adventure/Relic Hunter/Great Treasure Hunt genre!
> 
> Today will be the prologue only and chapter one will post next Sunday, as usual.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**A Greater Pursuit**

 

**Prologue**

 

_ I swear to God, if we get out of this damned situation alive I am going to fucking kill Bellamy, _ Clarke thought as she struggled against the zip ties holding her hands together behind her back.

 

Even as she wiggled, her stupid brain couldn’t help but admonish her for even thinking that particular thought. If she had just ignored that cryptic ass email, she wouldn’t even be in this situation.

 

She wouldn’t be in Spain.

 

She wouldn’t be tied to a fucking chair.

 

And she  _ definitely _ wouldn’t be with Bellamy Blake.

 

_ Stop pretending you still hate him, idiot. _ The same voice scolded, but she ignored it completely.

 

She looked hastily to the only door to the room as she moved her hands back and forth trying to stretch her restraints enough to release her hands.

 

Her mother had sent her a video on how to escape this exact same situation when she was in her early 20s and still in college, but like an idiot, she had scoffed and sent the email to her trash folder.

 

_ Well, maybe you owe her an apology and maybe from now on, you should take her more seriously. Or at least search for shit like this before you dive headfirst into a fucking mission to recover stolen art from an underground black market kingpin. _

 

She glared meaningfully at the door as if it were the embodiment of her subconscious. She really had to get a better control over her conscience and its annoying observations to her psyche.

 

Suddenly, the door she was glaring at burst open and in walked said underworld kingpin, kicking formerly mentioned Bellamy Blake to the floor in front of him in the small room.

 

She couldn’t contain the sudden inhale at seeing him. He looked mostly unharmed except for a small cut on his bottom lip, but her heart started hammering faster at the sight of him in danger.

 

He spat on the ground and Clarke could see blood mixed in with the spit.

 

“You know, I can fucking walk, you asshole. No need to break my kneecaps in the process.” He growled at the man who was guiding him.

 

_ Shut the fuck up, Bellamy!  _ What the fuck was  _ wrong _ with him? Did he want to die?

 

The man smirked. “I’m aware. This way is much more fun.” He brought his gun up to Bellamy’s head and pointed it straight between his eyes. “I’m afraid my sense of humor has reached its end. Where is the painting, Mr. Blake?”

 

 _What?_ _What’s he talking about?_ Her thoughts were coming so fast she couldn’t think straight as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

 

Bellamy smirked. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” He turned to look at Clarke with a heated stare, obviously trying to convey something to her, but at the moment she couldn’t figure out what he meant.

 

“Bellamy, what’s he talking about?” Clarke said shakily.

 

The man turned his gun on Clarke then.

 

“Unfortunately for you, I now find myself only in need of Mr. Blake, here. So. It was nice knowing you, Ms. Griffin.” The sadistic bastard prefaced.

 

_ This is it. _ She thought.  _ This is how it ends. _

 

She turned to look at Bellamy.

 

_ I’m sorry. _ She thought so hard, she was afraid she might cause herself an aneurysm. 

 

_ I’m so sorry.  _ She was crying now and she watched Bellamy shake his head.

 

She closed her eyes and breathed.

 

_ I love you. _

 

“CLARKE!”

 

The sound of the gun was deafening in the small room.

  
  



	2. Wanderlust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one is a go!
> 
> The adventure is just beginning my friends...
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Wanderlust**

 

“No, not there, you idiot! Do you know how much that painting you’re holding is worth?” Clarke practically yelled as she ran across the room to the man who was about to sit a Van Gogh down next to a wood furnace in the basement of the museum.

 

 _Honestly._ _They’re delivering a package to a museum._ How do they not just automatically assume that what they are delivering is _valuable?_

 

She grabbed the crate irritably from the man who looked startled at the venom in her voice, but _really,_ she couldn’t be bothered to care that she had mortally offended the man.

 

She wasn’t the youngest curator of the Ark Museum in its history for no reason, after all. And allowing a 130 year old painting to spontaneously combust due to delivery ineptitude wasn’t going to do her any favors in _staying_ curator either.

 

“Here.” She sat the crate in the safe which stood far away from the furnace and closed the heavy door. When she returned to the man, she demanded wordlessly that he hand over the pen so that she could sign the release and be done with him and this whole delivery process.

 

She could feel the man’s incredulous stare as she signed the appropriate line and shoved the clipboard at his chest, which he hastily rushed to catch before she walked away briskly, expecting him to follow.

 

Clarke didn’t spare the poor man another glance as she rushed to the staircase in the corner of the room and ascended into the lobby of the basement. She pressed her badge against the pad beside the door which allowed her into the room where the elevator resided. The man stood wordlessly beside her as she called for the elevator with her badge.

 

The ride in the elevator was awkward and silent and she breathed a silent breath of relief when the doors opened into the back hallway of the museum proper.

 

“Thank you for your assistance.” She said as she turned to the confused man before she left him without a word of goodbye.

 

 _Okay, so maybe that was a little harsh._ She weighed her actions in her head.

 

It had been a very, very bad day.

 

This morning, she woke up late which threw off the rest of her day.

 

She hadn’t had time to go to Starbucks so she had to take coffee from home and her aging coffee maker just didn’t provide the same sustenance that her usual morning fix provided.

 

She needed to get over it though. She was supposed to be having dinner with Finn’s parents tonight after work and she didn’t want to scare them with her terrible attitude.

 

She and Finn had been dating for about three months now and he was sweet. They went to brunch together on the weekends and occasionally saw each other on weekdays. He was cute in a boyish kind of way and he had a consistent voting record.

 

Not that she had looked that up or anything.

 

She sighed deeply as she made her way into the main lobby. The museum would be opening soon so she stopped to visit with Harper by the front desk.

 

“Morning, boss.” Harper smiled as Clarke approached and Clarke couldn’t help but return with a small smile.

 

Harper was just one of those personalities that made you feel sunshine-y inside no matter how your day was going.

 

Which is why she made a perfect greeter for the museum. Clarke was glad hers was the first face people saw when they visited their humble home for the arts.

 

“Not technically your boss, but good morning, Harper. How was your weekend?” She asked politely, walking up to the countertop and resting her left elbow by the brochure rack.

 

“Oh, it was great! Went for a hike at Starved Rock with some friends. It’s a little bit of a drive, but definitely worth it. What about you? Anything new?” Harper asked in that genuinely friendly way that made you feel like she actually cared about your answer.

 

Clarke thought about it for a second. Her weekend?

 

Well, Friday night, she lounged around her apartment alone watching _Psych_ reruns on Prime and chowing on Japanese because Finn was working unusually late on a job site for the magazine he worked for.

 

Saturday, she and Finn went to brunch at a little place downtown and window shopped for a while. They stayed at her place in the evening and each worked on various things for their jobs on opposite ends of the couch.

 

Sunday, they had brunch _again_ (She liked pancakes damn it, but why couldn’t they just eat them first thing in the morning like normal people?) before Finn had to bail to pick his parents up from the airport and get them settled in.

 

All in all it was a very... _nice_ … weekend.

 

Sure, her life wasn’t all that _exciting_ , but realistically, she was a museum curator.

 

How exciting of a life could she possible have?

 

And no, she didn’t count Evie from _The Mummy_ either. Technically, Evie wasn’t even a museum curator anyways, just an Egyptologist who _worked_ at a museum.

 

“Oh, you know, the usual.” She smiled slightly, hoping Harper didn’t see through her hesitance to answer.

 

Judging from the look Harper sent her way, however, she wasn’t fooled.

 

“You know, you _could_ get out some more. Go places, see things! You love art and history, but when was the last time you actually visited some of the beautiful places that you’ve studied for so long?” Harper asked and immediately Clarke felt a twinging in her gut.

 

Never.

 

She hadn’t even studied abroad with the rest of her classmates. She was supposed to go to Italy for a semester but her dad had gotten sick and she had elected to study at home.

 

So while she studied and worshipped all of the history that came with their European counterparts, she had never actually gotten to experience their culture firsthand.

 

But she wasn’t about to spill all of that to Harper like some crazed lunatic in search of a therapist.

 

She sighed instead. “Harper, you know I’m far too busy here at the museum to go galavanting off to Europe for any amount of time. What would you all do without me?” She smiled her bright, fake smile and snapped out of her self-induced depression hole.

 

Harper eyed her amusedly. “Oh, I think Lincoln would do just fine without you for a few days. Or weeks even. And it’s not like you would lose cell phone service and have no means of communication. It’s Europe, Clarke, not the Australian outback.” She huffed and tapped the papers she had been separating on the desk to even them out before placing them next to Clarke’s elbow on the countertop.

 

Clarke returned her amused stare with a semi-glare.

 

“I’m aware, Harper, thank you.” Harper chuckled at her obvious hesitance to leave the country.

Honestly, she would love to go to Europe. But she was terrified.

 

So she stayed firmly in place, loving their culture from afar.

 

“Ooo! Shh! I wanna hear this!” Harper exclaimed excitedly and picked up the remote control to turn up the volume on the television.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and turned to see what she was looking at. The television in the corner of the room, attached to the wall, was set to the local news station and the face on the screen was one she knew very well.

 

The sound of disgruntlement came unwillingly and she heard Harper chuckle behind her.

 

“I’m standing here with renowned treasure hunter, Bellamy Blake, who has just recovered a previously missing artwork, _American Gothic_ by American painter Grant Wood. Bellamy, how on Earth were you able to recover such a valuable piece of modern history?” The news reporter was practically salivating over Bellamy, who, for his part, was grinning roguishly and running his fingers through his black curls.

 

“I actually prefer the title of Art Recovery Specialist, or at least that’s what my company refers to me as.” He grinned at the pretty reporter and winked at what he apparently thought was a funny comment.

 

Which the reporter also apparently thought was funny because she started giggling girlishly.

 

Barf.

 

 _Art Recovery Specialist_. He hunted down missing artwork for an insurance company. She would hardly call him a specialist in a field. If anything, people should be more startled at the fact that he was able to communicate with a vast underground network of forgers and fencers.

 

 _Seriously_.

 

“And this particular case was actually an easy one. As soon as the piece went missing from the Art Institute of Chicago, I was on the move. I’m just glad we were able to recover the artwork in such a timely manner.”

 

She knew that the reporter was continuing the conversation, but she couldn’t be bothered to keep listening to what they were saying, as Harper interrupted her glares at the television screen.

 

“You know, he’s not such a bad guy. I mean, he has recovered one or two pieces from some of our private donors to the museum, and he encourages most collectors to donate their artwork to our museum.” She could hear Harper say exasperatedly behind her.

 

Clarke closed her eyes as the news station moved onto the next story and placed her smile firmly in place before she turned around to give her attention back to Harper.

 

“I’m aware. I have no qualms with Mr. Blake or the beautiful pieces he has single-handedly helped us attain for our collections.” Smile. “I simply don’t find his _personality_ to be… my favorite.” She turned to walk toward the door to the museum. It was almost opening time.

 

She could hear the amusement in Harper’s voice when she responded.

 

“Oh _please_ .” Harper laughed. “What _happened_ there, anyways? At one point, I thought that the two of you were starting to get along. Especially after he convinced Diana Sydney to donate that Picasso piece.”

 

Clarke paused minutely in her unlocking the door before quickly shaking herself out of her thoughts and continuing her actions.

 

“I’m afraid you were mistaken. Mr. Blake and I have never been more than acquaintances. I appreciate what he does for our museum, but beyond that, I can’t really comment.” She sighed happily before turning and looking at Harper. “Now. I do believe it’s time for the museum to open. Are we ready?”

 

Harper continued to stare at her curiously but answered anyways. “Yes, of course. As usual, boss.” She smiled a small smile.

 

“Excellent.” She turned and walked past the front desk toward the body of the museum.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A few hours later, she waved at Harper as she passed by the front desk on her way out the door.

 

“Hey, I’m going to meet Wells for lunch. Want me to bring you something back?” She questioned, stopping to search for her cell phone in her purse.

 

“Nah, I’m good. I packed something for today.” Harper smiled at the person who walked in at that moment.

 

“Okay, sounds good.” She nodded and made her way out the front door.

 

Technically, Clarke wasn’t Harper’s boss and for that she was grateful as it meant she was able to form relationships with the employees at the museum. Jackson was Executive Director and she would happily give him all the reins when it came to human resource decisions.

 

A beep sounded from her phone and she held it up to see the message.

 

 **Wells** _Are we still on to meet for lunch?_

 

She smiled and returned the text.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _Of course. I haven’t seen your face in 120 years. I’m not about to cancel lunch on the one day I actually get put into your extremely busy lawyer schedule._

 

She smirked and reached out to open her car door before sitting in the driver’s seat and starting the car.

 

Her Prius made no noise as it started and she turned down the 80s music that started blaring from her satellite radio.

 

Her phone beeped again, this time through the speakers of the car, and she checked it before she started driving.

 

 **Wells** _You’re a dork. See you in fifteen._

 

She smiled, placing her cell phone in the holder beside her seat and put the car into gear.

 

She and Wells had been friends since birth.

 

Literally.

 

Her mother and his father were campaign partners in their small town, so they were always together growing up. Now, her mother was the governor of the great state of Illinois and Wells’ father was the Lieutenant Governor.

 

Not that she advertised that or anything. She didn’t want people thinking she had more privilege than she did. She earned her job on her own merits. Jackson hadn’t known who she was before he decided to hire her, but that didn’t mean other people might not make assumptions.

 

She thought about her parents as she continued her drive to the restaurant. She hadn’t seen them in a few weeks, so she was sure her mother had lined up at least 10 eligible gentleman for her to “meet,” but hopefully her dad was able to keep the stream of bachelors at bay.

 

Her parents were in a much better place now than they had ever been. When her dad had been diagnosed with cancer a few years back, every problem they had been experiencing with their marriage had immediately seemed petty and unimportant. He had gone into remission two years ago, and since then, they had been almost unbearable to be around.

 

Thinking of Finn, she almost couldn’t wait to tell her mother that she was dating someone semi-seriously.

 

She knew that her parents wanted her to find someone to quote “Be happy with,” but honestly, she _was_ happy. And she was only 28 years old, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like she was a wilting flower.

 

As she approached the restaurant, she pulled up to the valet station and handed over her keys to the kind gentleman.

 

“Thank you, sir.” She smiled tightly and made her way into the restaurant.

 

She hated places like this, but these were the places Wells frequented these days with his job, so she was sure he selected this particular restaurant for a reason.

 

“Before you say anything, they have the _best_ lasagna you will ever have in your life. Ever.” She heard behind her and she smiled as she turned around to greet her best friend.

 

“Hey, you asshole, how’s life?” She reached up and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him close.

 

He hugged her tightly back.

 

“That’s a great way to greet your best friend in the world.” He released her and stepped back, looking her up and down. “Don’t you look nice.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. She was wearing a simple black fitted dress that did wonderful things for her waistline and a blazer. Hardly anything to go off about.

 

“Me?” She stared at his extremely nice, extremely expensive (She was sure, tailor-made) suit. “How much did that cost, exactly? My paycheck for the month?” She smirked at his not-amused expression.

 

“You know I have to wear stuff like this now. Suits say a lot about the lawyer.” He straightened out his lapel as he said it.

 

Clarke barked out a laugh. “Yeah, sure, tell yourself that if it helps you sleep better at night in your Egyptian Cotton sheets.” She turned and walked to the host then. “Jaha, party of two.”

 

The host’s head jerked up at that and stared at the two of them.

 

“Oh, yes, uh, right this way, mam.” He stumbled, grabbing two menus and leading them to the far corner of the restaurant.

 

Clarke hung back to elbow Well’s in the ribs.

 

“Why is the host acting like I’m George Clooney’s girlfriend?” She whispered.

 

“She’s his _wife_ , now, and she’s also a highly respected lawyer and Civil Rights champion and her name is Amal. And as for the reason why he’s treating you like you’re special, maybe it’s because your mom is the _governor_.” Wells whispered back.

 

“Thank you for the lecture, asshat, I know who I am, but how does _he_ know who I am?” She questioned, eyeing him suspiciously.

 

Wells straightened his tie nervously.

 

“Yes, well, I really wanted to eat here today and ‘Hi, I’m a junior lawyer at Mitchell and Hodges didn’t have quite the same ring as ‘Hi, I’m the lieutenant governor’s son and I’m having lunch with the governor’s daughter.’”

 

She turned to stare at him incredulously and he smiled unapologetically.

 

“What? It’s really good lasagna.”

 

She sighed as they were seated in a booth in a private corner of the restaurant.

 

“Whatever. I swear, you only make my life more complicated.” She mock chided him.

 

He chuckled lowly. “You say that now, but _you_ haven’t had the lasagna.”

 

She laughed out loud at that.

 

“You’ve set my expectations high now. This better be some damn good lasagna, Jaha.”

 

She looked up to see him smiling.

 

“If I’m wrong, I’ll cover our dessert.” He offered.

 

She considered it for a moment.

 

“If you’re wrong, you cover dessert _and_ coffee afterwards.” She counter-offered.

 

He gave her an amused stare.

 

“Fine. We have a deal.”

 

They shook across the table.

  


* * *

  
  


As they walked out of the restaurant, Clarke couldn’t help but own her defeat.

 

“Fine. It _was_ the best lasagna I’ve ever had.” She conceded as they walked towards her car. Wells had taken an Uber to the restaurant so Clarke volunteered to drive the two of them to the coffee shop she frequented by the museum. She had grabbed her keys from the valet, tipped him, and told him she wanted to walk off some of the food she had eaten.

 

He had stared at her like the was insane and she had relished in it.

 

Wells smiled smugly. “Of course it was. You shouldn’t just write off every fancy restaurant on principal, you know.”

 

She sighed. “I’m aware, but I grew going to those places and the fancier the restaurant, the more likely it is I will run in to one of my mother’s ‘acquaintances.’”

 

She loved her parents. Truly. They were fully supportive of her and her life choices, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to be surrounded by sycophants and hoity toity rich people all the time.

 

Wells chuckled. “Yeah, well, you might have to make an exception for this particular institution from now on.” He rushed forward after she hit the unlock button and opened her door for her.

 

She eyed him with amusement. “Ever the gentleman, I see. How is it that you’re still single, again?”

 

Wells sighed as he headed to his own side of the car.

 

“I have literally zero time to date at the moment. Do you know what junior lawyers do? Do you?” He huffed as he closed the door and she started the hybrid engine.

 

Clarke laughed. “No. I don’t. What do they do, Wells?” She questioned and put the car into gear to back out of her parking space.

 

“Everything. They do everything, Clarke. Everything the senior partners don’t want to do. And nothing fun, interesting, or even worthwhile. Have you ever seen _Suits_?” He turned to face her as she drove down the streets.

 

“Yes! I love that show, actually.” She said, turning quickly to look at Wells before turning back to look where she was driving.

 

“Well _Suits_ is a _lie_ , Clarke. Real lawyering is _nothing_ like that.” He said with an exaggerated sigh.

 

Clarke giggled and turned onto the street that would take them to the coffee shop.

 

“Honestly, Wells, you just finished school. Did you really just think that you would go straight into the Harvey Specter realm of law?” She pulled up next to a street parking spot and started to parallel park.

 

“I don’t know, Clarke, but I definitely didn’t think it would be a whole lot of paperwork, pro bono tax fraud cases, and coffee runs for guys in suits that cost more than my car.”

 

They pulled into the parking space and Clarke pushed the button to stop the engine.

 

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you other than you have to put in your time.” She pushed open her door and leaned against the handle to lock the car.

 

“Says the youngest curator the Ark Museum has ever had.” Wells grumbled under his breath as they walked to the door of the coffee shop.

 

“Don’t be jealous, Wells, it’s not a good look on you.” She side-eyed them as they ducked into the coffee shop and out of the street.

 

“Yeah, yeah, not jealous. I’m happy for you, really. I’m just salty because I want to get to the good part of being a lawyer sooner rather than later.” He sighed yet again.

 

“You’ll get there. Don’t worry about it.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek in comfort.

 

She turned to look at the line ahead of them.

 

“Now. What are we going to grab for the post-lunch crawl at work?” She eyed the menu interestedly.

 

“I’ve heard their Zero Bar drink is really good, actually.” A voice came from behind her and to the left.

 

She tensed up, immediately recognizing the self-confident drawl. She could feel Wells turn to give the person her attention, so she couldn’t avoid doing the same.

 

There he was, leaning against the cream and sugar bar, smirking in her direction.

 

Damn.

 

She had almost convinced herself that he wasn’t as attractive as she remembered him after she saw him on the news that morning, but now that she was standing right in front of him she couldn’t ignore his handsomeness.

 

He had developed a little stubble since the last time she saw him. Not quite a beard, but enough that it highlighted the sharpness of his jaw. His hair was perfectly tousled and his arms were crossed over his chest, the muscles in his forearms standing out against his golden tanned skin.

 

She cleared her throat.

 

“Mr. Blake.” She greeted politely, giving him a hard smile.

 

Bellamy grinned widely and pushed off the bar with his hip and walked in her direction.

 

“Now, Princess, I thought we were at least on a first-name basis by now?” He stopped when he was about three feet away and he couldn’t contain the shiver that rolled down her spine at his close proximity.

 

_Stop it, Clarke. Cocky asshat, remember?_

 

“If that were true, wouldn’t you refer to me as Clarke then?” She returned snarkily, but her obvious annoyance only seemed to make his smile brighter.

 

“Oh come on, you know you’ll always be the Princess to me.” He leaned in close when he said that, lowering his voice so that people around wouldn’t hear. “I like this.” He gestured to her fitted dress. “It looks very nice.”

 

The way he said “nice” sounded anything but that and she could feel her bottom lip between her teeth, as if her body instinctively reacted to his general presence.

 

A throat cleared beside her and she remembered with startling clarity that Wells was still there, standing right beside her, and was obviously watching the entire exchange.

 

“Uh, hi.” He held out his hand toward Bellamy. “Wells Jaha. Are you a friend of Clarke’s?” He asked politely.

 

Bellamy stood straighter and reached out to return Wells’ handshake.

 

“You could say that.” Bellamy smiled a small tilt of the lips in Clarke’s direction. “We work together on occasion.”

 

Clarke snorted at that.

 

Bellamy turned back to her then, expectantly.

 

She sighed and decided to be polite. “Wells, this is Bellamy. Bellamy this is Wells.” She gestured between the two of them as she spoke.

 

“Nice to meet you, Wells.” He said, stepping back from the two of them. “Unfortunately, I must get going. I have a meeting with my boss about my next case.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, yes. Saw that you retrieved the Wood piece. I’m glad that it has found its way back to the proper location.” She smiled minutely.

 

Bellamy smirked yet again and raised his own eyebrow. “You saw, huh? Found time to watch the news this morning, Princess?” He was full on grinning now.

 

Clarke crossed her arms in front of her and huffed. “It was on in the front lobby if you must know and I read the headline in passing.”

 

Bellamy merely continued his grinning. “It’s okay, you can admit that you routinely seek me out in your free time.”

 

She glared.

 

“Hardly. More like glean information in between viewings your exploits with every available reporter in the Chicago area while I’m trying to enjoy my morning coffee.”

 

Bellamy’s grin widened. “Careful Princess, some might take your acknowledgement of my personal life to mean you’re jealous.”

 

She tightened her grip on her own arms further and rolled her eyes.

 

“Good thing we know better then, don’t we?” She stared him down, hoping to at least affect him the way he was able to immediately get under her skin, but instead, he bit down on his bottom lip as he smiled at her obvious discomfort.

 

Wells coughed then. “Ah, well, it was nice to meet you, Bellamy. But I’m afraid Clarke and I are next and she needs to get back to the museum.” He looked at Clarke, who caught his eye and looked away in embarrassment.

 

Bellamy laughed. “Of course, you two have an excellent day.” He nodded to Wells. “I’ll be seeing you, Princess.” He winked at her before turning and walking out of the coffee shop.

 

Clarke immediately turned around to the barista and gave her order.

 

“Hi, I’ll have the medium caramel frappuccino.” She smiled sweetly at the girl behind the counter.

 

“I’ll take a small Zero Bar, please.” Wells ordered and she couldn’t help but notice that he went with Bellamy’s suggestion so she stared at him from the corner of her eye.

 

Wells shrugged at her look. “He said it was good, the description sounds good, I’m ordering the drink.”

 

Clarke bit her lip and turned back to the counter. She couldn’t really _say_ anything. She had been planning to order the exact same drink before Bellamy suggested it. She elected not to out of her own pettiness.

 

They stood silently for a beat before Wells broke the silence.

 

“Are we really not going to talk about that?” He gestured with his thumb to the front door.

 

Clarke kept her eyes straight ahead.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Wells, there isn’t anything to discuss.” She said, tight-lipped about the non-topic.

 

Wells chuckled.

 

“Please. A tall, handsome stranger approaches you at a coffee shop calling you “Princess” and there isn’t anything to talk about?” He said incredulously.

 

“Here you go, mam!” The girl behind the counter chirped brightly, handing Clarke and Wells their drinks.

 

“That’s precisely what I’m saying.” Clarke said as she turned toward the exit, Wells shuffling along behind her.

 

“Okay, weirdo, avoid the conversation. That will just make me think something happened there even _more_.” Wells said as they approached her car.

 

Clarke sighed.

 

“Fine. He recovers stolen art. He occasionally convinces private clients to donate art to our museum. He flirts with anyone with legs. And I mean literally anyone, he’s bisexual.” She took a sip of her drink before putting it in the cup holder in the console of her vehicle.

 

Wells shut his door and maneuvered into his seat belt.

 

“Wait. A good-looking art lover who tries to make your life at the museum easier? Why do you act like he has the plague? Because he doesn’t tie himself down? That doesn’t seem like you.”

 

He had a point. She was never one to judge someone’s sexual habits.

 

“No, that’s not really it. Let’s just say our personalities aren’t compatible.” She said firmly as she pulled out into the street.

 

Wells laughed at that so she turned to glare at him. He held his hands up in defense.

 

“I’m just saying that you two sound pretty compatible to me. Sounds to me like you might have a thing for this guy but don’t want to admit it.” He shrugged his right shoulder as he looked out the window.

 

Clarke all but gasped in horror.

 

“I do NOT have a… a _thing_ for Bellamy Blake. Unless that thing involves throwing him into the path of the nearest subway car.” She gripped the steering wheel tighter.

 

Wells snorted. “Whatever, denial. I don’t care that much. You’ll either buck up and do something about it someday or you won’t.” He paused and she started to say something in retaliation but he continued. “I just think that if you gave it a chance, it might work out. For what it’s worth, from a guy’s perspective, he seemed to be really into you as well.”

 

Clarke sighed.

 

“Yeah well, he’s into everyone, isn’t he?”

 

She refused to look in Wells’ direction as she felt his eyes drift to the side of her face.

 

Bellamy Blake was nothing but a nuisance and a distraction.

 

She had goals. Very high goals for her life and none of them, not _one_ , included getting mixed up with the likes of Bellamy Blake.

  


* * *

  
  


Later that evening as she closed up the museum, Clarke released an exhale of tiredness and closed her laptop after responding to her last email of the day.

 

She had so enjoyed getting to see Wells that day and she hated that it had been interrupted by an interlude with Bellamy Blake.

 

It wasn’t that she _hated_ him, per say.

 

They just… had a history of tension.

 

As if Wells could sense her thoughts turning to their lunch together, her phone dinged and she looked down to see a text from him.

 

 **Wells** _So you’re aware, today highlighted the fact that it has been far too long without seeing you. We should turn this into a weekly thing, don’t you think?_

 

She smiled.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _Of course I would like to have a weekly lunch appointment with you. Since today is a Monday, want to just make it Mondays?_

 

She tapped the phone off and placed in her pocket as she finished packing up all of her belongings. Once she swung her bag onto her shoulder, she heard her phone ding once more in her pocket but she elected to wait on answering it until she got into her car.

 

“Headed home?” She heard someone ask as she walked into the foyer of the museum.

 

She paused and gathered her wits about herself before turning to find the man who had just been occupying her thoughts.

 

“You know, stalking is illegal in all 50 states.” She spoke drily, glaring heatedly at Bellamy’s self-satisfied grin.

 

He took a few steps forward with his hands in his pockets.

 

“Sorry to disappoint, Princess, but not everything is about you.” He gave her a pointed look and she blushed but maintained her glare.

 

“Well, forgive me for thinking otherwise, considering I hadn’t seen you in what? A year? Until today, and now I’ve seen you twice within a couple of hours.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Hardly seems coincidental.”

 

Bellamy looked at her strangely before he seemed to catch up to his expression and his smirk was back.

 

“I assure you, it is.” He gestured with a sweeping maneuver to the hallway leading to the administrative offices of the museum. “Just meeting with Jackson about a potential donor who I contacted in the area.”

 

Clarke could feel the frustration building behind her eyes. It was hard to dislike him so much when he did such great things for her museum.

 

“You know, I’m very appreciative of all that you’ve done for our little museum, but isn’t it a little odd for an insurance recovery specialist to be going out of his way to convince people to put their art in museums?” She asked with a raised brow.

 

Bellamy’s grin slipped a little and his eyes spoke something his words did not.

 

“Not at all. You see, my company believes that our client’s pieces would be better protected if they were in a proper museum. Saves them money, you see.” He leaned against the doorway as he watched her curiously. “So, Ms. Griffin, why is it that you’re headed home so early today? Not slacking on the job, I hope?”

 

She barely contained her eye roll at the comment. It was 4:45. She was leaving _fifteen_ minutes early.

 

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but no. Not slacking. Taking off a few minutes early because I’m meeting my boyfriend’s parents this evening.” She smiled brightly.

 

Bellamy’s grin completely disappeared at that and he pushed off the doorway to come stand before her in the foyer.

 

“The guy from today?” He asked, seemingly genuinely curious about the answer, but Clarke knew better. Bellamy just liked to make everything his business.

 

“No, actually. Wells is just a friend. Best friend, really. Since birth.” She turned and walked toward the front desk, only just noticing that the television was still on in the lobby.

 

“You two looked pretty cozy to me. If I were your boyfriend, I would probably be a little threatened.” She heard Bellamy say as she walked away, his voice strangely low.

 

She finally reached the desk and was searching everywhere for the remote control to turn off the television.

 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then, isn’t it?” She bit out as she continued her search for the device.

 

She huffed and straightened, placing her hands on her hips. Suddenly, she heard the sounds of the television cut off and she looked toward it only for the remote control to suddenly appear, dangling in front of her face.

 

She snatched the remote from Bellamy’s hand and turned to find him standing much closer than she had thought he was, so she leaned back slightly against the desktop behind her.

 

“I suppose so, Princess.” He smiled slightly, and unlike previous smiles, this one seemed more genuinely amused and less cocky assurance. His eyes flickered up to the television he had just turned off. “Is that where you watch for signs of my exploits?” He nodded his head to the television.

 

This time, the eye roll came unbidden and she turned to tuck the remote control into the drawer behind her before ducking around Bellamy’s body and exiting the desk.

 

“I rarely even remember you exist, Blake. Don’t presume that I sit around waiting for you to come back here because you will be sorely mistaken.” She reached the other side of the desk where she had dropped her bag and hauled it back onto her shoulder.

 

When she looked up, Bellamy’s face was blank and she almost mourned the apparent loss of the genuine smile from before. Bellamy’s shoulder shrugged up in nonchalance before he walked around the desk toward her once more.

 

“I don’t expect you to be. Hell, one of these days I thought I might run into you outside the Colosseum or at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. But you seem perfectly content here in Chicago, of all places.”

 

Clarke bristled at the insinuation in his words.

 

“I’m perfectly happy here, not that it’s any of your business.” She bit out and suddenly, she had gotten a glimpse of one of her most closely-guarded cards.

 

Bellamy’s face dawned with new understanding at her words.

 

“Whatever the hell you say, Griffin.” Once he was standing a few steps in front of her he continued. “Stay here in your miserable little hole of the world, never experiencing life.” He stepped closer. “Go home to your quaint little apartment with your boring boyfriend and forget that there’s a better life out there for someone like you.”

 

Her breath hitched when he stepped so close that she could see the freckles dusting across his cheekbones.

 

“Someone like me?” She heard herself say quietly, almost as if he had put her in a trance that she had no hope of breaking.

 

Bellamy’s hand came up and grazed her shoulder as he made a path up to her face, tucking her hair behind her left ear.

 

“Yeah. Someone like you. Someone with something to offer the world.” His eyes met hers and she shivered involuntarily at the earnestness she saw there.

 

He cleared his throat and removed himself from her proximity, glancing at the clock on the wall.

 

“Well, Princess. As much fun as this has been, I think it’s time I made my leave.” He looked back at her then. “May we meet again.”

 

And with those parting words, he was gone. She heard the door to the museum softly close behind her with his exit, but she was still staring at the space he had vacated.

 

 _How dare he?_ Her brain thundered ominously, protesting the way he had ripped her innermost thoughts and feelings out of her chest and stomped all over them. _He doesn’t know anything about me_.

 

 _Or maybe he knows too much_. Another voice offered, and she immediately shut it down.

 

No. Bellamy Blake may be an enigma. And he may be the most handsome enigma she knew. But he definitely didn’t know her at all.

  


* * *

  
  
  


Clarke hummed along with the music playing out of her HomePod as she brushed a final layer of mineral powder onto her face. Finn would be here any minute for their dinner and she was feeling unusually nervous.

 

She told herself it was because she was meeting his parents but the same small voice from earlier kept trying to make itself known.

 

 _Or maybe you’re just second guessing this entire relationship because of one comment from Bellamy_.

 

She almost growled with frustration at the sound of her thoughts in her head before she heard the sound of a knock on her front door.

 

Sliding her hands down the fabric of her dress in an effort to straighten non-existent wrinkles in the fabric, she moved to answer the sound.

 

On the other side of the door was Finn, looking as he always did, boyishly handsome with a grin like a small puppy.

 

_N’Sync, eat your heart out._

 

“Hey babe!” Finn said as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “You look great! Ready to go?”

 

She knew he wasn’t behaving any differently than he usually did, but for some reason, he was annoying her more than usual.

 

_Maybe it’s because he represents everything dull about your life and you can’t stop thinking about Bellamy and what he said to you._

 

She bit out a forced grin. “Absolutely. Let me grab my purse.”

 

She returned to her bedroom and picked up her bag from where she had laid it on the side of her vanity and looked at herself one last time in the mirror.

 

“Listen to me, Clarke Griffin.” She whispered to herself. “You _will_ go on this date, you _will_ enjoy it, and you _will_ stop thinking about that man.” Maybe if she said it outloud, her innermost voice would listen.

 

But as she walked back into the living room and saw Finn waiting by the door, bouncing lightly on his toes, all she could think about was everything he represented.

 

_Complacency._

 

“Let’s go.” She smiled.

  


* * *

  
  


As she sat across from Finn’s mother that evening, listening to everything the woman said with rapt interest, her eyes kept flickering to the television hanging on the wall of the sport’s bar behind her head.

 

They were replaying the story from earlier, Bellamy grinning flirtatiously at the female reporter. Clarke’s stomach was ringing itself dry as she watched the exchange, nibbling on her lower lip to keep herself from saying something that would give away her lack of concentration.

 

“So I said, that’s simply unacceptable! I mean, can you imagine?” The woman interrupted her thoughts, regaling Clarke with a story from her day at her business she owned in Chicago and Clarke mentally berated herself for not paying closer attention.

 

Finn’s mother was perfectly nice. As was his father. They were the picture-perfect married couple and she could see why Finn adored them so much.

 

“Absolutely.” She said with conviction and she patted herself on the back for sounding so convincing.

 

Behind his mother, the news story was still playing and this time, she noticed something she hadn’t seen earlier when she and Harper had been talking. The reporter placed her hand on Bellamy’s upper arm and laughed, only Bellamy laughed lightly as well and stepped one step to the side, gently removing her hand from his arm.

 

_Interesting._

 

“So what about you, Clarke? How is life at the museum?” The woman across from her smiled and leaned her chin on her hand, waiting for Clarke to answer.

 

Clarke felt guilty immediately. Here she was, distracted by Bellamy yet again when these lovely people had come here _specifically_ to meet her.

 

“Um, it’s good. Nice. We just got in a new Van Gogh this week, so we will be starting restoration on it as soon as late next week. It should be a great addition to our Impressionist exhibit.” She smiled.

 

She could do this. She was the queen at pretending everything was okay.

 

_Just don’t tell her the real answer to that question._

 

That while yes, the museum was awesome and everyone there was great, she was really secretly longing to show Bellamy Blake that she _could_ travel the world. That he was right, she _did_ have something to offer.

 

“Oh, how exciting!” His mother squealed and the sound brought Finn into the conversation.

 

“Yes, Clarke is very talented, mother. The youngest curator the museum has ever had, actually!”

 

Clarke blushed at the praise, and at one time, this was all she ever wanted. To have a boyfriend who was proud of all of her accomplishments.

 

_But does he ever encourage you to be more? To keep growing? To live life to the fullest?_

 

That voice was growing stronger with each sip of alcohol she took so she hastily pushed it to the side and refocused her attentions on the task at hand.

 

Impress Finn’s parents.

 

_You know, Finn. Your boyfriend. The one you have brunch with on a regular basis. The one who takes pride in everything you do. Who loves your job at the museum because it means that the two of you have regular, normal hours and can see each other on a regular, normal basis._

 

She barely winced as she smiled this time.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Her heels made a soft thud as they hit the rug on the floor of her bedroom that night while she undressed after her date.

 

It was a nice date. Pleasant, even. Finn’s parents really seemed to like her and Finn appeared to be relieved at that. She really felt like her relationship with Finn could go the distance. That he could be the one she married someday and settled down with. They could have a nice house in the suburbs and she could go to her set, day job at the museum and he could go to his set, day job at the magazine and everything would be perfect.

 

Yepp. Perfect.

 

 _You’re pathetic_ , her inner voice moaned.

 

When had she become this?

 

Growing up, she found her love for art and history the way any kid would - Through pop culture. Dan Brown books and Indiana Jones were her go to methods of coping with childhood boredom. She would watch Harrison Ford run through tombs and temples, saving priceless artifacts as he went and imagine what life could be like.

 

But somehow, she had settled into a 9-5 job, looking at art, appreciating art, but never experiencing it.

 

She exhaled as she continued to undress, throwing her clothes to the floor and telling herself she would pick them up the next day. Walking to her dresser, she opened the top drawer and grabbed her favorite pair of sweatpants and baggiest T-Shirt.

 

She was pretty sure it was Well’s T-Shirt that she had stolen at some point during their many years of friendship, but it was soft and swallowed her whole and he was never getting it back.

 

As she collapsed on the bed, she heard her phone make a swishing sound the indicated she had received a new email message.

 

She considered leaving it until the morning. She wasn’t working right now and she was really, very tired. Whoever sent the email could wait for her response.

 

After all, it was 11:46 at night (As her clock on her nightstand told her), no one emails you that late and expects an immediate answer.

 

And yet, she still found herself reaching for the device.

 

Just one quick glance at the sender before she gave in to her sleepiness.

 

She swiped across the screen and tapped the mail icon at the bottom of the screen. When the message in her inbox popped up she paused.

 

**Important: FAMOUS LOST VERMEER HAS FINALLY RESURFACED**

 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 

_What the fuck?_

 

She knew it was probably a spam email, but somehow, in her sleep-deprived brain, it seemed like a good idea to open this odd email.

 

**Good Evening.**

 

 **_The Concert_ ** **has made itself known once more. If you want it to be found before it disappears for yet another 30 years, meet me tomorrow at the Corner of 29th and Indiana next to Dunbar Park.**

 

 

  * ****A friend.****



 

 

Clarke giggled.

 

What kind of spam email was this? Obviously, the person had gotten ahold of her information and knew she worked at a museum, so they thought they could lure her to this spot with the promise of recovering one of the most valuable pieces of missing art in the world.

 

Did they think she was an idiot?

 

Besides, she was a _museum curator_. Definitely not an Indiana Jones. Or even a Ben Gates.

 

She clicked the phone off and placed it on the wireless charging pad beside her on the nightstand.

 

Sighing, she leaned back against the pillows behind her and stared at the ceiling.

 

 _No way._ She definitely wouldn’t be responding to that email.

 

And she definitely wouldn’t be going to that address tomorrow.

 

She had wanderlust, sure, but she wasn’t an idiot.

 

Still, as she closed her eyes to sleep, she dreamed of adventure, intrigue, and a greater pursuit of life than the one she was currently on.

 

And if the person by her side happened to have dark curly hair, freckles, and a smile for the ages then it was just as well.

 

It wasn’t like she could control what she dreamed, after all.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnnnnn
> 
> Let's get this party started!
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone for your kind compliments on the last chapter! I love reading comments!
> 
> Don't forget, I'm on twitter @Mallidaywrites!
> 
> See you all next Sunday!
> 
> PS Anyone else love a Season one Bellarke dynamic? Cause I do.


	3. Takeoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed your first taste of AGP because this chapter it really takes off (Get it? Takeoff? I'm hilarious)!
> 
> Many of you had guesses about who sent the email. I can tell you that you won't find out who was behind the email for quite a while BUT you will eliminate people along the way!
> 
> As for Bellamy and Clarke...
> 
> Get ready for all the bickering, y'all. ALL the bickering.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Takeoff**

 

_ She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she jumped across the creek that ran between the rocks, landing haphazardly on a large boulder on the other side. Turning around, she smirked and placed her hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes smartly at the man standing on the other side of the small ravine. _

 

_ “Ha!” Her grin grew. “Told you so. What’s wrong? Scared?”  _

 

_ The man stood watching her, his mouth twerking up at the corner. She threw her long blonde hair over her shoulder and turned, walking toward where she knew the trail began on the edge of the woods. _

 

_ “I assure you, I have no qualms about jumping over this tiny crevice.” The man called from behind her. “You, however, should be very worried, Griffin.” _

 

_ Clarke snorted as she approached the tree where they had dropped their bags earlier. _

 

_ “About what, exactly? A wild animal devouring me in the middle of the day?” She giggled and leaned down, rummaging through her bag, looking for her water bottle. _

 

_ The man didn’t respond after a minute or so. Clarke paused in her search, standing up straight and turning around, only to gasp and back up against the tree behind her. _

 

_ “No.” The man said lowly, now standing right in front of her. “Well,” He continued, walking toward her. “Unless you consider  _ **_me_ ** _ to be a wild animal.” He grinned then, his teeth beautiful and gleaming in the sunlight. Clarke could almost swear that, in that moment, he almost did resemble a wild animal stalking his prey.  _

 

_ Standing in front of her, he pressed in even closer, his left hand gripping a low limb behind her head and his right resting on her waist. _

 

_ “I don’t know.” She whispered, trembling as his hand wrapped entirely around her lower back, his fingers pressing into her and pulling her even closer. “Are you planning to devour me?” Her voice cracked a little at the end and she prayed he couldn’t hear the excited nerves in her voice. _

 

_ When she looked up at his face, however, she knew he could. Amusement colored his features, and she blushed. _

 

_ “Oh yes, Princess.” His hand moved from her waist up the center of her torso, his fingers brushing the underside of her breast on their way up, finally wrapping lightly around her neck. “Every inch.” He whispered, his lips brushing against hers. _

 

_ She gasped as his lips descended on her own. _

 

***BEEP BEEP BEEP***

 

Clarke jerked upright in her bed, her arm flailing slightly and knocking her cell phone off her nightstand toward the floor where it landed with a soft thud on the shag carpeting beneath her bed.

 

She was breathing heavily as she took in her surroundings, the window outside showing the sun just creeping above the horizon. Her right hand came up to rest against her chest, feebly hoping to calm her racing heart.

 

_ What the fuck. _

 

She thought this was over. 

 

And now what? He comes back after an entire year of radio silence and suddenly she’s dreaming of him again?

 

Frustrated with herself, she flung the comforter back and practically stomped into the bathroom hoping to shower away the indecent thoughts she had been having a few minutes prior. 

 

It’s not even that she  _ wanted  _ to do those things with Bellamy Blake. It was just her stupid libido that couldn’t seem to contain itself whenever he resurfaced.

 

_ Whatever, Griffin, keep telling yourself that. _

 

She huffed loudly even though there was no one around to hear her. 

 

Shaking her head, she opened the shower curtain and reached in to turn the water on, stepping back to allow it to cool. As she stripped off each piece of clothing, she woke up a little more, the cool air of her bathroom startling her senses to life.

 

Stepping into the shower, she turned the head of the showerhead just so, allowing the water to wash over her tired body. 

 

Her mind eventually drifted once more to Bellamy. 

 

The way he had looked at her in the coffee shop, casually leaning against the condiment stand. 

 

The way he had crowded her up against the desk in the front lobby.

 

The way he had told her there was a whole world waiting for someone like her. How he implied he hoped he would get to see her out there in it.

 

“Shit!” In her dazed thought, the sudsy bath soap she had been holding slipped through her fingers and landed on her foot, abruptly jerking her from her considerations.

 

She mentally cursed Bellamy. Even when he wasn’t under the same roof, he caused her unnecessary irritation. 

 

As she began to wash her hair, her mind wandered to other, safer, less-Bellamy-filled topics. 

 

Like work. Work was good.

 

She really needed to make certain that the restoration preparation for the new Van Gogh had begun and that the proper protocols were being taken for this new, very valuable (Very lovely) work of art.

 

And suddenly, almost as though she pulled it from her very dreams, her mind remembered the email she had gotten the night before.

 

She  _ had  _ gotten an email hadn’t she? Did she dream it?

 

How odd, that someone would send a spam email of that nature. Sure,  _ The Concert _ was a very well known piece that everyone knew had been stolen. Easily Googled. But still, who made up spam emails like that? Whatever happened to “CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’VE WON THE LOTTERY! CLICK HERE!” emails?

 

Unless it wasn’t spam.

 

She paused and stopped patting down her wet hair, now free of conditioner, to look at the wall of the shower in front of her. Biting down on her bottom lip, she tapped her toe against the cool tile below her feet and looked to her left, the light above the vanity almost blinding in the early morning dusk.

 

_ Stop it. It was totally spam. _

 

But what if it wasn’t?

 

Even if it was a real email, she couldn’t actually  _ respond _ to something like that. It was likely a hoax. Or someone insane.

 

She definitely wouldn’t give it anymore thought.

  
  


_

  
  
  


Approximately thirty minutes later, as she was driving to work, Clarke had thought about the email she had gotten at least 8 more times.

 

Not that she was counting.

 

But she definitely couldn’t  _ stop  _ thinking about it. It was incredible, wasn’t it? Here she was, a woman with a Master’s degree considering the validity of a ridiculous email.

 

When she pulled into the parking lot at the museum, she pushed the button to stop her car and drummed her fingertips along the material of the steering wheel, looking out the windshield at the side of the building.

 

_ Don’t even think about it, Griffin _ .

 

She bit down on her bottom lip as she pulled her cell phone from its place in her center console. Just one little glimpse. To make sure she hadn’t, in fact, dreamed this whole thing to life.

 

Tapping on the screen, she navigated to her email and, sure enough, at the top of her “read” emails was a message titled:

 

**Important: FAMOUS LOST VERMEER HAS FINALLY RESURFACED**

 

She sighed deeply and let her hand drop to her lap, her phone resting against the top of her thigh.

 

What if it really was true? What if this person had knowledge about one of the most famous lost artworks in the world and she ignored it? What if it wasn’t ever found again?

 

A sudden tapping on her driver’s side window startled her so much that she jumped in her seat and knocked her head against the sun visor that was hanging down in front of her.

 

“Oh!” She heard outside. “I’m so sorry, Clarke! I didn’t mean to scare you!” The muffled voice of Harper penetrated through her window.

 

She chuckled lightly, harshly slapping the visor back into its place and reached to open her door.

 

Harper backed away so that she could exit her Prius and Clarke gave her a mock glare. 

 

“If you wanted to send me to an early grave, there are much easier and less awkward ways, you know.” Clarke said lightly, grabbing her bag from the back seat and leaning against her car door to lock the vehicle.

 

Harper giggled and tucked her hair behind her right ear. 

 

“Not trying to kill you, boss, just trying to figure out why you’re sitting alone in your car staring at a wall.” She shrugged her shoulder and looked at Clarke out of the side of her eye.

 

_ Don’t you dare say anything, Griffin.  _

 

“Oh, I was just deep in thought. Thinking about all there is to do today. We have that new Van Gogh, as you know, and I was just mentally checking boxes for the pre-restoration process.” 

 

There. That sounded convincing enough. Nothing about that said “Oh, I was sitting and pondering a mysterious email that alluded to the recovery of a long-lost stolen artifact that could very well bring major change to the entire global art community.”

 

“You worry too much, you know.” Harper said pointedly.

 

They had reached the back door to the museum and Harper waited patiently as Clarke reached out and unlocked the door, pulling it open and gesturing for Harper to enter before her. 

 

“Yes, well. Someone’s got to do the worrying. And it’s definitely not going to be Jackson.” She said with a slight huff of exasperation, drawing a chuckle from the blonde.

 

“Jackson means well. He’s just a logistical brain. That’s why he hired you and Lincoln. You’re experts in your field.” Harper reminded her as the two of them placed their belongings in the lockers of the mud room. 

 

Clarke sighed. She knew that. But sometimes Jackson’s complete lack of knowledge on the museum’s subject matter made things more difficult. 

 

“So.” Harper continued. “I heard Bellamy Blake stopped by the museum yesterday.” She turned to look at Clarke, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the lockers. 

 

Clarke gulped and continued arranging her belongings. 

 

“Did he?” She asked in an uninterested tone. 

 

Harper wasn’t fooled or impressed. 

 

“Yes, he did. You mean to tell me that you, Clarke Griffin, didn’t run into him  _ at all _ ? When I know for a fact that you were still here when he was in his meeting?”

 

Clarke sighed, closing her locker and turning to face Harper. 

 

“Okay, so I saw him. What is there to discuss beyond that? He was cocky and annoying, I was perturbed and suitably annoyed. The end.”

 

She turned to walk toward the elevator that would take them to the main floor of the museum, Harper laughing openly as she trailed behind her. 

 

“Whatever, boss. Live in your world of denial. But that man is one fine piece of history-buff lovin’ ass, and the two of you would be two perfect fucking peas in a hot, nerdy pod.” 

 

Clarke couldn’t contain the blush that overtook her face at that comment, reaching forward to press the button for the main level.

 

Why did everyone she knew seem to think that she and Bellamy Blake were like. Predestined or some shit? She was perfectly fine with Finn, thank you very much.

 

Her inner subconscious snorted. 

 

“Listen. Bellamy might be… reasonably attractive and intelligent, but those things aren’t the only characteristics I value in a partner. Besides. I’m happily in a relationship, mind you.” She said primly as the elevator began its ascent. 

 

Harper joined her inner subconscious for the second snort. 

 

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Clarke walked briskly down the hallway toward her office door and entered, dropping down into her desk chair. 

 

“So. Onto more work-related conversation.” Clarke prefaced, shuffling through the papers on her desk as she looked for the right document.

 

Harper merely sighed and joined her, sitting in the chair across her desk. 

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


Around noon, Clarke was directing the restoration employees on where to place certain packages that had been delivered for the Van Gogh when her phone buzzed in her pocket. 

 

“Remember to make sure that we have everything in place for when the conservator arrives next Monday. This process needs to be as smooth and uninterrupted as possible.” The employees nodded as she walked away, retrieving her phone from her pocket. 

 

She smiled when she saw it was a text from Wells, but frowned when she saw the subject. 

 

**Wells** _ Your boyfriend was on the news this morning. Pretty successful dude. I approve.  _

 

Clarke glared at her phone spitefully. 

 

**Clarke** _ I’m not sure my actual boyfriend would appreciate your referring to Bellamy in such a way.  _

 

He must’ve been at lunch because she received a reply almost immediately. 

 

**Wells** _ And how do you know I wasn’t referring to the magazine dude? Seems to me you jumped to that conclusion pretty easily. _

 

He sent a picture he had apparently taken to show her that, in actuality, it  _ had  _ been Finn on the news that morning. Their magazine had been hosting some charity event for kids in the downtown area. 

 

Oh. Well, fuck. How was she supposed to know? Bellamy has been on the news the day before. Wasn’t that the natural conclusion to reach?

 

**Clarke** _ Oh! Well, he looks very nice. I’m sure he did a nice job. _

 

She was only mildly annoyed with herself for immediately assuming that Wells had been referring to Bellamy. 

 

**Wells** _ Yes, he was very… nice.  _

 

Clarke huffed and put her phone back in her pocket. Was  _ nice  _ a bad word now?

 

_ No, it’s just that when it was Bellamy on the news, you literally stopped breathing, so…. _

 

She really had to learn better control of her thoughts. 

 

Her phone buzzed once more and she took it out, prepared to give Wells a piece of her mind, when she noticed it wasn’t a text. 

 

It was an email. 

 

**LOST VERMEER**

 

The subject line read. 

 

Clarke gasped and looked around. Why, she wasn’t sure. It was just a fucking email for Christ’s sake. 

 

What harm would it do to read it? It wasn’t like she was going to click on anything, so no harm of any potential spyware. 

 

_ Don’t open it, Clarke.  _

 

She looked around, casing the room one more time, before she tapped on the message.

 

**2:30.**

 

That was it. That was the whole message. She looked to the sender line to find the same email address from the first message. 

 

**azgnum2@gmail.com**

 

Now, more than ever, Clarke was beginning to think this message wasn’t spam. There was no misleading link to click, no phishing for her personal information... In fact, if anything, the person seemed to already know who she was and what she did for a living. 

 

Which brought to mind the question of  _ how? _

 

A shiver of unease shot up her spine at the realization. 

 

If it wasn’t spam, then… Did this person really have information on the painting? 

 

_ Call the cops, you idiot.  _

 

But what if they spooked at the sight of cops?

 

_ You’re not Nicolas Cage, just call them.  _

 

Before she could ponder it for too long, she found herself Googling the number for the Chicago PD. 

 

The phone rang three times and a voice-automated system picked up. 

 

_ Thank you for calling the Police Department for the city of Chicago. Please listen to the following options.  _

 

_ To report a crime, Press 1.  _

_ To leave a tip on possible criminal activity, Press 2. _

 

Clarke pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed “2.” 

 

The phone clicked and rang twice more before she was connected with an actual voice. 

 

“Chicago PD tip line, would you like to state your name for the record?” 

 

“Yes, Clarke Griffin.”

 

She paused after she said that. Maybe she shouldn’t have given her name. 

 

“Alright, Ms. Griffin, what would you like to report today?” The officer asked in a bored tone. Undoubtedly, in a city like Chicago, he had to sit all day and listen to crazy people calling in about the most random and inconsequential of shit.

 

“Yes, I keep getting these really cryptic emails from an unknown sender…”

 

Before she could even finish, she heard the officer release a heavy sigh through the mouthpiece before he interrupted her.

 

“Mam, this tip line is a place to report possible criminal leads in the city of Chicago. If you are having a problem with spam or phishing emails, the report needs to be made with the Federal Trade Commission.” He said tiredly.

 

“No, but this is…”

 

“Thank you and have a good day.” He interrupted yet again before she heard a dial tone.

 

“I…” 

 

She couldn’t believe he just hung up on her. Without even listening to what she was going to say!

 

Well. What was she supposed to do  _ now? _

 

_ Well, I’ll tell you what you’re not going to do, Clarke Griffin, you are most certainly not going to go meet this crazy individual that knows who you are and  _ **_obviously_ ** _ wants to take you out. And I don’t mean on a date. _

 

She really needed to stop watching crime family dramas.

 

She put her phone back in her pocket and decided she would worry about it later.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


Sitting at her desk, Clarke’s eyes drifted over to the clock on her wall.

 

1:45 

 

The second hand continued to tick on, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

 

She tapped her pen against the desktop and chewed on her bottom lip. Should she go?

 

_ NO. _

 

What if the sender was legit? What if this was the real thing and she was the reason why this priceless work of art never saw the light of day again?

 

**_Tic. Tic. Tic._ **

 

The clock was mocking her, right? It wasn’t usually that loud, was it?

 

Her door opened suddenly and she jerked upright in her seat, her eyes drifting to the person who was coming in.

 

Lincoln looked at her in confusion.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked, obviously worried by how startled she was at his entrance.

 

“Uh. Yeah.” She said, closing quickly out of her email on her desktop where she had pulled open the original email.

 

Lincoln eyed her dubiously but seemed to forgo actually asking her about it.

 

“Okay… Well, listen, there’s a new potential donor across town on Michigan Avenue who is interested in letting us feature his Picasso. Any chance you’re free to go have a look? I have a meeting at 2:30.”

 

_ Michigan Avenue? As in right across from Dunbar Park? _

 

“Um.” She hesitated. 

 

She had no reason  _ not _ to go. It was her job, after all. It was just so close to where the email had requested she visit.

 

She could just… drive by, maybe. See if anyone was actually there waiting.

 

_ Absolutely not, Clarke Griffin. You will go to the new donor’s house and then you will return to the museum. The end. _

 

“Sure, Lincoln. I would love to.” She smiled in his direction.

 

Lincoln returned the smile with one of his own.

 

“Awesome! Like I said, I would have loved to have gone, but unfortunately, my 2:30 appointment overrides my innermost wants.” He chuckled and made his way to the door.

 

“It’s no problem.” Clarke assured him, standing and smoothing non-existent wrinkles from her clothing. “I will let you know how it goes.”

 

“Thanks, Clarke, you’re the best.” He turned and saluted her as he exited through the door to the hallway.

 

“Okay. You can do this, Clarke. Drive to the house, see the artwork, come back. You do it all the time. No biggy. And you most certainly will not drive by Dunbar Park.” She nodded, having convinced herself of her own certainty, before she grabbed her keys and made to exit the building.

  
  


_

  
  
  


Clarke gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove down the highway. The road seemed almost blurry in front of her as she drove toward her destination.

 

She held her breath as she drove by the sign that read “Dunbar Park” but kept driving.

 

Releasing her breath, she smiled. See? Temptation avoided.

 

She looked down at the paper in her passenger’s seat at the address for the donor’s house before returning her eyes to the road, scanning the numbers posted on buildings and looking for the right number.

 

As her eyes scanned both sides of the street, she saw a street sign up ahead that read “29th Street.”

 

**_Meet me tomorrow at the Corner of 29th and Indiana next to Dunbar Park_ ** the email had read.

Her heart raced in her chest.  _ 29th Street and Indiana. _

 

Before her brain could catch up, she found herself turning onto the road.

 

_ Clarke, what are you doing??? Go back! _

 

But she was already too gone now. The road was coming to an end where it met Indiana and she ducked down behind her steering wheel, hoping that whoever was there waiting didn’t see her.   
  
But as she rounded the corner, she didn’t see anyone.

 

She was strangely disappointed as she drove down the road.

 

It really had been for nothing.

 

_ Well, there you go, you looked. Now. Back on schedule, please. _

 

She sighed in disappointment and readied herself to take South Michigan when a familiar head of hair caught her attention.

 

She inhaled sharply at the sight. The person ducked behind the building at the end of the street.

 

_ No. It couldn’t be. _

 

In a fit of rage, Clarke pulled into the nearest available parallel parking spot and slammed her door.

 

She was only a block away from where Indiana and 29th street met and with her pace, she reached the corner in no time, searching frantically for her target.

 

“Clarke?” She heard. She turned to see Bellamy come out from behind the house at the corner of the street. “What are you doing here?”

 

She was fuming. 

 

“ME?! What am  _ I _ doing here?? You have SOME nerve, Blake, setting this whole thing up. I can’t  _ believe _ you would stoop so  _ low! _ ” She yelled in his direction. 

 

Bellamy’s look of confusion was quickly replaced with a heated glare of retaliation.

 

“I don’t actually know what the fuck you’re talking about, but I really need you to get out of here. You don’t need to be here right now.” He said lowly, looking around the street.

 

Clarke’s mouth actually dropped open in astonishment.

 

“I - I -  _ What _ ? I’m  _ sorry? _ You’re the one who had  _ me _ come  _ here _ and now you need me to leave?? Are you certifiable?! I mean, I know you’re upset about what happen last year, Blake, but come on. Man up.”

 

His expression shuttered for a second before it was back to anger. 

 

“Last year has nothing to do with this, Clarke. Now. I’m very serious. I need you to go back to your obnoxious little car and get back to the museum.”

 

She swore she could feel the steam coming out of her ears like the cartoons she watched when she was a kid.

 

But she didn’t have a chance to respond as a third voice joined their argument from behind her.

 

“I’m going to need the two of you to keep your voices down, please. We need to be quick about this and I’m afraid I can’t attract any undue attention. You understand.”

 

Clarke gasped, turning quickly and jumping back instinctively.

 

There in front of her stood a man in a suit. A very expensive suit, it looked like. His hands were clasped in front of him and his hair was slicked back away from his face.

 

Suddenly and without warning, Bellamy was standing in front of her, between herself and the man, and his arms were out as if he was shielding her.

 

“What is she doing here? I thought this meeting was just between the two of us.” Bellamy growled at the man.

 

The man simply smiled and pulled out a paper from his coat pocket.

 

“Oh no, Mr. Blake. My employer gave me very specific instructions to email the both of you about this matter.” He gave the piece of paper to Bellamy, who reached forward, jerking the paper from the man’s hand and holding it up so he could read it.

 

Clarke looked over this shoulder at the paper.

 

**_Bellamy Blake - Pike Insurance_ **

 

**_Clarke Griffin - Ark Museum_ **

 

She gasped, realizing for the first time that Bellamy  _ didn’t  _ send her those emails. He received the same emails she did from whoever this man was.

 

_ Oops, guess I owe him an apology. _

 

“This doesn’t concern her. She’s a museum curator, for fuck’s sake. She doesn’t need to be involved in this.” Bellamy’s voice was low and held a warning she didn’t fully comprehend.

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, her subconscious warned her to remain silent, but… well, she never listened to her subconscious.

 

“Um. Excuse me. But I believe  _ I _ will be the judge of whether or not I need to be involved in this.” She huffed indignantly from behind Bellamy.

 

Bellamy ignored her.

 

“Let her go. Before she gets too wrapped up in this.” Bellamy’s stance hadn’t wavered from the moment he put himself in front of Clarke and she was getting very frustrated.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Blake, but he was very adamant that Ms. Griffin be invited as well. After all, the goal is to return the artwork to a  _ museum _ and well.. She curates the artwork at one of the most well-known in Chicago.” The man smirked and she could feel the tension radiate off of Bellamy.

 

“I work for an insurance company. I assure you, I can make certain that the Vermeer is returned to the correct location.”

 

The man sighed and brought his hand up to look at his watch. 

 

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for this. The name you’re looking for is Diana Sydney. Brent of West London. I’m afraid that’s all the information I can give you at this time, but you will find out what to do with it, I’m sure.” The man looked to the road like he was waiting for something.

 

“Wait? Sydney? Like  _ the _ Diana Sydney? Why would she have anything to do with the missing Vermeer?” Bellamy questioned and Clarke looked back and forth between the two men in confusion.

 

Who the fuck was Diana Sydney? West London? What did she know about  _ The Concert _ ?

 

“I told you, Mr. Blake, I-” The man’s sentence was cut off by the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air.

 

Clarke screamed and immediately ducked down to the side walk, covering her head with her arms.

 

“CLARKE! RUN!” Bellamy urged her, pulling her alongside himself, holding her hand and finding shelter behind the house on the corner.

 

The shots continued and Clarke was shaking as they kneeled down to the ground behind the house.

 

“What the fuck is  _ happening _ , Bellamy?!” She screamed over the sound of the gunshots.

 

The shots stopped and they heard the sound of car door open and then slam shut before the noise of squealing tires indicated that whoever it was in the car was in a hurry to leave.

 

Bellamy peered around the corner of the building and Clarke had to stop herself from admiring the way his heavy breathing and anxious swallowing did things,  _ magical things _ , to his profile.

 

“Come with me.” He pulled her out of the alleyway and back to the sidewalk and only then did Clarke realize that he was still holding her hand.

 

Before she had a chance to linger on that thought for too long, she looked toward where they had been standing previously to see the man who summoned them was lying on the sidewalk, a pool of blood around him.

 

“Oh my GOD! Bellamy! Is he DEAD?” Clarke was full on freaking out now, looking everywhere around her for any sign of the shooter.

 

Bellamy pulled away from her to approach the body, bringing his fingers to the man’s pulse and feeling for signs of life. Judging by the way his head bowed and he exhaled, Clarke knew he wasn’t successful.

 

“Oh my God. Oh my God.  _ Oh my God. _ ” She was struggling to breathe. “We just witnessed a murder. That man is dead.  _ Dead _ . Oh my  _ God. _ ” 

 

Clarke knew she was going to have a panic attack. She could feel it coming on.

 

“Clarke. Clarke, breathe.” Suddenly, Bellamy was in front of her, lifting her chin up with his fingers and forcing her to look him in the eye. “Clarke listen to me. Listen to the sound of my voice. Breathe, Come on. That’s It.” 

 

She could feel her breathing get deeper again as she stared into his eyes.

 

“Listen, Princess.” He started, his hands coming up and rubbing her arms up and down in a soothing motion. “We’ve gotta get out of here, okay?”

 

Somewhere in her brain, she registered his words and nodded.

 

“Okay. Where’s your car? Are you parked nearby?” He questioned in that soothing voice.

 

She nodded again and pointed in the direction of where her car was parked.

 

“Okay, let’s go. Give me your keys.”

 

She was gulping down breaths now, trying to keep herself from crying. She pulled her keys from her pocket and handed them over to Bellamy, who pulled her down the road to where her car was waiting.

 

When they reached the vehicle, he unlocked the doors, opening her door for her, and helped her get situated inside.

 

“It’s okay, Princess. Everything’s okay. We’re fine.” He continued to console her and so she nodded.

 

By the time Bellamy got into the driver’s seat and headed down the road, Clarke was mostly breathing normally, looking out the window at the passing buildings.

 

“Bellamy.” She said, her voice scratchy. “What just happened?”

 

She knew theoretically what happened, but she wanted to know what he knew.

 

He took a deep breath, his hand reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes somewhat.

 

“That was a source, Princess. They give me the information I need to recover stolen pieces. He was a new source, granted, but I was assured that he was legitimate from another source that I trust.” He sighed before continuing. “ _ The Concert _ isn’t one of my assignments, but sometimes, I hear about different pieces from sources that I try and recover anyways. You know, for the sake of art and the world?”

 

He chuckled mirthlessly.

 

“I guess this time, the recovery was just a little bit bigger than I anticipated. My sources are underground, you see. Criminals. But I mean, how else do you find stolen art? This one emailed me last night and told me to meet him here. I’m just now gathering that he might have emailed you as well.” He turned to look at her then so she met his eyes and nodded slightly.

 

“Yeah. And then again today with a time.” She said quietly.

 

Bellamy swore.

 

“Jesus, Clarke. What were you thinking? This isn’t anything you should be involved in. You don’t just answer random emails! I actually looked into this guy. Checked with my sources. You don’t  _ have  _ sources. You could’ve been killed!” He scolded her and frankly, Clarke was tired of him treating her like a child.

 

“I’m an adult, Bellamy! I can make my own choices, and I  _ definitely  _ don’t need you to scold me like your my dad or something.” She said heatedly, turning back around to stare out the window.

 

She could hear Bellamy chuckle.

 

“Definitely not your dad, Princess.” 

 

She turned to look at him then, only to find him staring at the road.

 

“Yeah, well, stop acting like it then.” She said angrily, glaring at the side of his face.

 

Bellamy smirked  and turned to glance at her.

 

“As you wish, Princess.”

 

Clarke groaned.

 

“And  _ stop  _ calling me  _ Princess _ , for God’s sake. It’s getting old.” She pouted but kept herself from crossing her arms across her chest in frustration.

 

Bellamy was full on smiling now. 

 

“Maybe to you.” He turned on the road and Clarke looked up to find that they had arrived back at the museum. “This is your stop.”

 

He parked the car behind the museum and got out of the car, coming around to open her door before she could even reach for the handle.

 

She glared at him heatedly, taking his proffered hand and stepping out of the vehicle.

 

“I can open my own doors, you know.” She said before turning and walking toward the museum.

 

Bellamy fell into step beside her.

 

“You know, you seem to get really testy when someone does something nice for you. Or is that just me?”

 

She stopped and turned to look at him as he smirked down at her.

 

“Just you, actually.” She smiled.

 

Bellamy’s grin dropped and he stepped further into her space.

 

“Careful, Princess. All this special attention might give me the wrong idea.”

 

His proximity was making her think very untoward thoughts, so even though she didn’t want to be the first to back down, she stepped backward.

 

“So, what do we do now?” She asked. She had never done anything like this before, so she was kind of hoping he would know what to do next with this whole… lost art thing.

 

Bellamy’s eyes widen imperceptibly and he stuttered.

 

“Um.  _ We’re _ not doing anything.  _ I’m  _ going to West London.  _ You’re  _ going to stay here in your safe, warm little museum where no one can shoot at you and  _ I  _ will bring the Vermeer back to you.”

 

Clarke’s mouth fell open yet again.

 

“ _ Excuse me? _ We were  _ both _ contacted! We were  _ both _ given the information! You don’t get to go gallivanting off to London alone to recover a lost painting that  _ we _ were both trusted to recover!” She yelled in indignation.

 

Bellamy barked out a laugh and Clarke wanted to punch him in the face.

 

“Clarke. You know absolutely nothing about art recovery and even  _ less _ about interacting with criminals. You’re staying here. End of discussion.” He turned to walk away from her, a car pulling up at the curb.

 

_ When did he even order an Uber??? _

 

He opened the door and she called after him.

 

“This is NOT the end of this, Blake!”

 

He turned to look at her then, a smirk firmly in place.

 

“See you when I get back, Griffin.” At that, he sat down, closing the door, and the car took off.

 

Clarke was  _ furious _ .

 

_ Why does it even matter? _ Her inner voice questioned.  _ It’s not like you can go with him! He’s going to LONDON! You have a museum to curate! And why would you want to go with him, anyways? Don’t we hate him?? _

 

She turned around and stomped to the door of the museum.

  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  


The rest of the day was a bust for Clarke.

 

How the hell was she supposed to concentrate after what she had just witnessed?

 

A man was DEAD. A man she had seen  _ alive _ . They were the last people to seem him alive. Weren’t they supposed to like - Report this or something?

 

Maybe Bellamy already had.

 

And then the day got even stranger.

 

Earlier, she had completely forgotten about the potential donor she was supposed to go visit, so after Bellamy left, she drove  _ back _ to Michigan Avenue only to find that the address they were given  _ didn’t exist _ .

 

Someone had called into the museum to donate something but they apparently  _ didn’t exist? _

 

While she was there, she drove past Dunbar Park only to see a swarm of blue lights gathered around the area of 29th street and a few cops blocking the entrance to the road.

 

She stiffened nervously as she passed the closed road and headed back toward the museum.

 

What did she  _ do? _

 

When she made it back to the Ark, she immediately went to Lincoln’s office.

 

“Hey.” She called out as she knocked on his open door.

 

Lincoln looked up from whatever he was doing on his computer and smiled warmly at her.

 

“Hey, how did it go?” He questioned.

 

She paused before answering, considering how best to answer.

 

“Actually, the address didn’t turn up.” She said slowly, wondering if that made sense.

 

Apparently not, since Lincoln’s face screwed up in confusion.

 

“Huh?” He questioned, and she tried again.

 

“The address. It uh.. It doesn’t.. Exist?” She finished the statement like a question. She didn’t really understand it herself. Who prank-called to donate to a museum?

 

_ Maybe someone who was trying to make sure that you would be in the area of the meet-up and that you wouldn’t ignore the email. _

 

Tucking that thought away in the dark, dark recesses of her mind, she shook her head and listened to what Lincoln was saying.

 

“Well that’s… odd?” He seemed just as confused as she did. “I’m sorry, Clarke. I should’ve looked it up on Google before I sent you out there. I just assumed it was legit. We don’t really get people who call with fake donation leads, do we?” 

 

He chuckled and so she did as well.

 

“Yeah, it was very strange. I guess they got tired of calling their neighbor with the whole refrigerator line.” Her laugh sounded a little strained. 

 

She turned to leave when something made her pause.

 

“Hey, uh, Lincoln.” She started, and he looked back in her direction. “If I were to need some time off for a little while… Would you be okay here alone?” 

 

She didn’t know what caused her to ask the question, but now that it was out there, she couldn’t take it back.

 

Lincoln looked at her confusedly. “Of course, Clarke. You never take time off, so it’s probably long overdue, anyways.” He smiled at her reassuringly and Clarke smiled slightly in return.

 

“Okay, thanks. Good to know.” She turned to leave then, waving goodbye as she did.

 

_ Why did you ask that? You’re not planning on going anywhere. _

 

She felt her fingers clutch her phone in her pocket and let her mind wander to her friend Bree, and whether or not she still worked at the airport.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Looking around, she could feel her anxiety building with each passing blur of human.

 

Why was the airport so busy, anyways? It wasn’t a holiday or anything. Do people always travel this much? Was she the only person in the world who didn’t travel?

 

She pulled her rolling suitcase behind her as she walked through the large open space toward security.

 

She had read all the rules online. 

 

No liquids greater than 3.4 ounces in one, sealable quart-sized bag. Not wanting to pay for a checked bag or worry about finding it after she arrived at her destination, she made sure to follow those guidelines.

 

Once she made it to the front of the line and scanned the boarding pass on her phone, she smiled nervously at the TSA agent and started to remove her shoes and electronics.

 

She got a couple of strange looks, but she wasn’t doing anything suspicious other than smiling like a crazy person, so she made it through the line unscathed.

 

Staring down at her phone, she read the signs on the ceiling in an attempt to find her gate for departure. She was a little early, but she thought she would go and wait anyways. Better to be early than late.

 

Once she made it to the correct location and compared her boarding pass to the electronic sign over the waiting area satisfactorily, she found a seat next to the large window overlooking the airplane bay.

 

Now, to wait.

 

She had been waiting for about thirty minutes when his voice interrupted her musings.

 

“Clarke?” 

 

It was the second time in as many days that she had heard Bellamy Blake address her in that manner and this time, it was much more satisfactory because she had  _ definitely _ been expecting him this time.

 

“Hello, Bellamy. Good to see you here. At the airport. On a plane to London, of all places. Who knew?” She smiled brightly at the look on his face.

 

As it turned out, Bree  _ was _ still working for the airport, and was more than happy to tell Clarke what plane Bellamy had bought a ticket for.

 

With the promise that she didn’t tell anyone and that she would get her tickets to the upcoming exhibition at the museum, of course.

 

Clarke was quick to oblige.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Bellamy said heatedly, dropping the bag slung over his shoulder to the ground beside her feet. “Go back to the museum, Clarke. I don’t know how you found me, but you’re  _ not _ going to London.”

 

Clarke smirked.

 

“Oh?” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the screen to her boarding pass, still on display. Turning the phone around, she held it up for him to see. “That’s not what my boarding pass says.” She gave him a very self-satisfied look.

 

“Cute.” The look he gave her was anything but amused. “I’m serious. You’re not going.”

 

_ Now boarding Flight 417 to London, England. _ A voice stated over the loudspeaker.

 

“Actually, it would seem that I am and you’re wrong.” She stood up and extended the handle to her suitcase, rolling it along behind her as she walked toward the gate.

 

Bellamy’s hand wrapped around her upper arm and pulled her back, turning her around and into his chest.

 

“Not funny, Princess.” He growled, his chest brushing against her own.

 

“Not trying to be,  _ Bellamy _ .” She said, pulling her arm from his grasp. “But I  _ am _ going to London and you’re  _ not _ going to stop me.”

 

She took a step back.

 

“Now, this can go one of two ways. One - You can join me in London and we can find this painting  _ together _ .” He was full on glaring at her now. “Or two - You can go to London,  _ I _ can go to London, and we can search for this long lost work of art  _ separately _ . You choose.”

 

Clarke could see the muscle in his jaw tick as he contemplated her words.

 

When he didn’t answer, she turned to begin her walk to the gate once more, but she suddenly found herself turned around, facing him once more.

 

“I will say this once.” Bellamy started. “The  _ second _ you don’t listen to me, you’re on your way back. I won’t be responsible for you getting yourself killed because you’re too stubborn to listen to someone who knows what they’re doing in this kind of situation.”

 

Clarke’s smile of satisfaction morphed into an angry grimace.

 

“Fine.” She bit out, turning around to resume her walk.

 

Bellamy came up beside her, having picked his bag back up off the ground. 

 

“I’m serious, Princess. This is not a friendly world. You stand a better chance of making it out of this unscathed by listening to me.” He half whispered as they walked beside each other to where the attendants were scanning passes.

 

“Yeah, yeah, got that. What with the dead, mobster-looking dude, and all.” She muttered, smiling at the lady who scanned her phone before moving along down the tunnel to the plane entrance.

 

“If you think that was bad, you’ve obviously never had interactions with the underground crime families of Europe.” Bellamy bemoaned as he caught up to her.

 

“Can’t say that I have.” Clarke said satirically. “And you have?”

 

“Yes, actually.” He said as Clarke reached her seat. “Wait. This is your seat?”

 

Clarke stuffed her bag into the overhead bin and turned to smirk at him.

 

“Yes. Why do you ask?” She questioned innocently.

 

Bellamy stared at her curiously.

 

“Because that,” He pointed at the seat beside her, next to the window. “Is my seat.”

 

Clarke’s eyes went wide. 

 

“How odd!” She stepped aside so he could put his bag away and take his seat.

 

Bellamy did just that and by the time she sat down between him and the aisle, he was full on staring at her.

 

“Who do you know?” He asked.

 

She turned to look at him.

 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” She said lightly, reaching forward to grab a magazine from the seat in front of her.

 

Bellamy snorted.

 

“Whatever. Don’t tell me. Know this.” She felt him lean into her, so she turned to look him in the eyes, his face inches from her own. “You don’t ‘know people’ anywhere outside of Chicago, Princess. So you better stay close to me. Cause after we leave this gate, I’ll be the only person you know in the world.”

 

Clarke gulped down the worry that suddenly settled over her.

 

She had been so concentrated on proving Bellamy wrong, she hadn’t stopped to consider what would happen when she actually left the only city she knew and traveled to the one place she had always wanted to go.

 

“Lucky me.” She said wryly, trying to hide her anxiety.

 

Bellamy smirked and reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear. He was so close that Clarke could see each individual freckle that dusted his nose.

 

“Can’t wait.” He whispered.

 

And then he was gone, leaning back against his seat, eyes closed, settling in for the flight.

 

Clarke was still turned in his direction, so she slowly righted herself in her seat and clenched her hands into fists.

 

She could do this. She  _ so  _ could. She could go to London, track down this valuable artwork, return it to the world, and she definitely, 100% could handle Bellamy Blake.

 

_ Right. _  Her inner voice drawled.  _ Good luck with that. _

 

She glanced to her right and saw Bellamy still settled in, eyes closed, smile in place.

 

For once, she agreed with her inner voice.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well???
> 
> That Clarke. So sly.
> 
> I love that she tried so hard to resist answering that email. Always using her head, that one.
> 
> Any thoughts on who is behind the email now? What about what happened a year ago?? You know I love my mini-plot-mysteries.
> 
> I drop hints all throughout this story about the future and where it's going. I am anxious to see who all picks up on them!
> 
> Let me know what you thought! Leave a comment or some kudos and I'll see you guys next Sunday!
> 
> Until then, I'll be on Twitter @MallidayWrites


	4. Poppy Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took some creative liberties in this chapter with Heathrow. I've never actually flown in there, so I modeled it after Atlanta airport in the states.
> 
> Also, I did actually use Google Maps for a lot of the location information - This Bella Italia place looks delicious! Any London readers, confirm please. LOL
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this first step on their adventure!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Poppy Flowers**

 

_ “It’s just beautiful…” Clarke sighed looking up at the lit-up visage of Big Ben against the darkness of the night skyline. “More beautiful than I ever could have just imagined.”  _

 

_ The cool air of the night chilled her more than she imagined too. No one ever told her that London was chilly. She hadn’t exactly expected another Chicago on her travels. Except it rained more here. A lot more. _

 

_ However, tonight’s sky was beautiful and vibrant. The sounds of the city around them lulling her in a way only the hustle and bustle of a major city could. _

 

_ She felt him step closer to her, his hand coming up behind her to wrap around her waist and pull her into his side, where she fit snugly into his arm. _

 

_ “You say that about everything we see.” His chuckle puffed out breaths of cold air and Clarke couldn’t help but snort before turning her head up to look at the side of his face. _

 

_ “Sorry, not all of us are travel experts. This isn’t old hat to me.” She stuck her tongue out before turning once more to glance up at the clock, leaning her cheek against the upper part of his arm. “Besides. It’s a clock. Who would’ve thought that a clock would be that mesmerizing?” _

 

_ His fingers squeezed her waist just a little bit tighter at that. _

 

_ “I think anything with this much history that you only see in pictures for your entire life has that kind of power.” His fingers were drifting back and forth, his pinky dipping slightly underneath the material of her long-sleeved T-Shirt to rub against her skin. “I’ll never forget the first time I came here.”  _

 

_ She looked up just in time to see the corner of his mouth quirk up in amusement. _

 

_ “I was on an assignment. I almost passed out in sheer joy at the sight of the Tower of London.” _

 

_ She laughed out loud, imagining a younger Bellamy grinning outright at the sight of a fucking fortress, for Christ’s sake. _

 

_ “Only you, Bellamy.” She burrowed her nose into the material of his jacket to hide her smile.  _

 

_ She felt him turn to look down at her then, and then she felt as he kissed the top of her head, his ever-present smile still in place. _

 

_ “Yeah, you’re probably right, Princess.” _

 

“Mam?” A voice brought her out of her daydreams and she hastily removed the earbuds from her ear to turn her attention to the woman traveling up the aisles of the airplane.

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Clarke asked shyly.

 

The flight attendant just smiled knowingly. 

 

Did she know what she had been daydreaming  _ about?  _ Was it written all over her face? 

 

_ No, you idiot. She’s just waiting for you to respond to her repeated questioning. _

 

“Would you like something to drink? Pretzels?” She held up a bottle of water from the cart she had been pushing toward the back of the plane.

 

“Oh! Yes, please.” She gestured to the water.

 

What even  _ was _ that anyways? She was used to the sex dreams. Sex dreams she could handle. Intimate moments involving no skin where they simply enjoyed one another’s company. 

 

Nope, no thank you.

 

“And I’ll take some pretzels, please.” She heard suddenly behind her and she jumped slightly, turning in her seat to find a smiling Bellamy.

 

“Of course, sir.” 

 

Clarke didn’t even have to look at the attendant to know she was blushing under Bellamy’s charm, so she rolled her eyes and unscrewed the cap of her bottle, taking a large sip and leaning back against her seat in a huff.

 

Before she could get comfortable, Bellamy reached over her completely to retrieve his bag of pretzels from the woman. 

 

At that moment, Clarke’s blush was just as prominent as the poor woman who had been caught unaware by the Blake hospitality. Feeling the heat of his body hovering just slightly above her own caused goosebumps to pop up along the skin underneath her t-shirt. His left arm brushed slightly against her breasts on his way back to sitting upright in his seat and Clarke immediately crossed her arms across her chest in an effort to hide the effect his touch had on her breasts.

 

“I could’ve given them to you, you know.” She huffed irritably.

 

Bellamy turned to smirk at her, popping a pretzel into his mouth.

 

“Nah, it’s fine, Princess. I know how much you value independence.”

 

Her eyes narrowed in his direction.

 

“Whatever. Just stay on your side of the seat.” She leaned back and closed her eyes, ready to ignore him again.

 

“Why? Does my presence bother you?”

 

Clarke jumped again as his voice was right beside her ear and she glared his way once more. Refusing to be intimidated, she leaned back in and looked him in the eyes.

 

“Yes, actually. Your entire existence, more accurately.” She said in a clipped tone.

 

Bellamy’s smile only widened at her statement.

 

“Hmm..” His eyes flickered over her face. “For someone who seems to despise my very existence, you were pretty insistent that you come with me to Europe.”

 

This time, Clarke smiled.

 

“Actually, if you recall, I was going to Europe with  _ or _ without your ass. So it would seem  _ you’re _ the one who can’t seem to let it go.”

 

Bellamy’s smile dropped and his eyes narrowed minutely.

 

“Or maybe I just didn’t want you inexplicable death or disappearance on my conscience.” He said lowly, moving into his space again. “You  _ scream _ tourist, Princess.” He was smiling again, leaning back against the window behind him.

 

Clarke turned back around in her seat, propping her feet up on her backpack that was stowed underneath the seat in front of her and shrugging her shoulder on one side.

 

“I may  _ scream  _ ‘tourist,’ but you’re the one trailing after me like Tom Cruise in that Cameron Diaz movie.” 

 

She could feel his heated stare on the side of her face.

 

“Careful,  _ Bellamy _ .” She started, mimicking his tone from earlier that day and turning to spare him a withering glance. “All this special attention might give me the wrong idea.”

 

Bellamy merely continuing glaring in her direction, never defending himself.

 

Clarke smiled brightly and turned to flag down the attendant for another bottle of water.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Clarke’s hands were still gripping her armrests tightly as the people in front of them started deboarding the plane. She had flown many times before nationally, but the landing always scared her the most. It would be just her luck that she make it the entire fight across the ocean only to die during the landing back to Earth.

 

“We’re okay now.” Bellamy leaned over, whispering in her ear. “All settled in and ready to walk on land again.”

 

Clarke wanted to bristle at his comment but he almost sounded consoling when he said it. Like he really was trying to ease her nerves.

 

“I’m aware.” She snapped.

 

_ Way to be an asshole, Clarke. _

 

She stood up quickly before she could overthink her reaction and started rummaging around in the overhead bin for her rolling suitcase. She pulled it down from the cabinet and placed it on the ground before she reached further back and tried to pull Bellamy’s duffle out as well. 

 

Her fingers had barely grazed the handle when she felt hands on her waist, gently moving her to the side.

 

“Here, let me get it.” Bellamy said softly, the skin of his fingertips grazing her hipbone where her shirt had ridden up.

 

The shiver came suddenly and unbidden, violently jolting her nervous system. She mostly contained her gasp, but not completely.

 

Bellamy didn’t seem to notice, however, as he continued reaching for his bag.

 

She recalled her daydream from earlier where she had imagined that very touch under more intentional circumstances.

 

_ Snap out of it, Clarke. Enemy Number One, remember? _

 

Right.

 

She cleared her throat.

 

“Sorry about that.” She said lightly.

 

Bellamy chuckled, pulling his bag over his shoulder and gesturing for her to take the lead and walk off the plane before him.

 

“No need to apologize for being short, Princess. I think it’s cute.”

 

She could feel the blush rise to her cheeks, but she remained silent as they made their way to the tunnel that would take them into the airport.

 

Now that they were actually  _ in _ London, she really didn’t know what to do or where she was going, but she wasn’t about to admit that to  _ Bellamy. _

 

Apparently, Heathrow Airport was much larger than she anticipated because just walking out into the masses of people was enough to overwhelm her. 

 

Where were the signs directing you to the Rideshare Pick Up?

 

She heard Bellamy chuckle behind her and she stopped abruptly, closing her eyes and gathering her wits before she turned around to confront his smug face.

 

“Yes?” She asked in a clipped tone.

 

Bellamy shrugged his shoulders and smiled a bright smile, looking up at her through the hair hanging in front of his eyes.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Clarke was internally fuming because he seemed to be genuinely amused by her obvious confusion. She kind of wanted to punch his smug, roguishly handsome face.

 

She had never been anywhere internationally, especially  _ London,  _ of all places. The least he could do was offer to help. Not giggle at her troubles.

 

She glared balefully but turned back around, looking up at the signs hanging from the ceiling.

 

“Hello, you look a little lost. Might I be of assistance?” A voice came from her left.

 

She turned to address the kind stranger.

 

The very  _ hot, _ kind stranger. 

 

“Hi!” Clarke greeted the blonde woman cheerfully. “Actually, yes. My friend and I,” She gestured unseeingly to Bellamy who she could feel behind her. “Are looking for the Rideshare Pick Up Zone.”

 

Clarke smiled brightly at the pretty woman who was smiling an equally bright smile in her direction.

 

“Absolutely.” The woman’s accent only added to her appeal and Clarke took a step closer. “If you go that way,” The woman placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder and pointed in a specific direction. “You’ll find the exit with the purple signs. That will take you to the Rideshare Zone. Would you like for me to escort you there?”

 

Clarke opened her mouth to respond but before she could speak, Bellamy spoke for her.

 

“No, thank you. We’re fine.” He stepped between the two of them and wrapped his hand around Clarke’s upper arm, pulling her away.

 

“Thank you!” Clarke called to the woman as Bellamy continued his trek toward the exit.

 

When they were out of sight, she pulled her arm from his grasp.

 

“What’s your problem? She was being nice to us!” Clarke growled at her travelmate.

 

Bellamy snorted and pushed the door open, continuing to walk in the direction of the purple signs, but it was apparent to Clarke that he knew where he was going without their use.

 

“Yeah. Nice. She was hoping that she could accompany you to more than just the Rideshare Zone.” Bellamy muttered as Clarke struggled to keep up with him. 

 

Clarke laughed. “Well, I mean, she was hot. And British. I mean, that ups her hotness factor by like 12.” 

 

She pulled her suitcase quickly, but Bellamy was going too fast.

 

“Would you slow  _ down? _ ” She emphasized to his Royal Highness, who was now a good several feet in front of her. “Apparently you packed lighter than I did.”

 

Bellamy sighed loudly and paused, waiting for her to catch up.

 

“I’m not sure  _ why _ you packed so heavily. Were you planning on making this an extended trip?” He questioned sardonically and finally started moving again when she was by his side, this time at a much slower pace.

 

“Well, you never know. Maybe after this whole art recovery thing is over, I’ll stick around for some sightseeing!” She said in a very perky tone.

 

She really had considered staying for a while. She hadn’t bought a return ticket yet because she didn’t know when she actually wanted to go back. Lincoln had assured her that he could handle the museum on his own and she had a bounty of leave days since she never took time off. 

 

And she had  _ finally  _ taken the step of traveling abroad. She wanted to take advantage of it, just in case she was never this crazy ever again.

 

_ Funny how you only decided to follow your life’s dream after Bellamy told you that you should. _

 

Clarke chose to ignore that small voice at the back of her brain and reminded herself that  _ really _ she was here because she wanted to prove Bellamy  _ wrong. _ Not because he was like some male Oprah or anything.

 

“Whatever floats your boat, Princess.” Bellamy said as they approached the canopied area where people were obviously waiting for their various rides.

 

He took out his phone and started tapping on the screen, ordering their car, so Clarke took a seat on one of the benches underneath the canopy.

 

She looked around.

 

She was in  _ London.  _ Like.  _ London, England. _

 

She smiled.

 

I mean, granted, right now all she saw around her was airport, but the air was different here. More… adventurous.

 

“Our Uber should be here in five minutes.” Bellamy told her, turning around to face her as he stood. “He will take us to the hotel.” He tucked his phone away in his back pocket.

 

Clarke’s eyebrows knit in confusion.

 

“You mean,  _ your _ hotel? You couldn’t possibly know if we are staying at the same hotel.” Clarke questioned.

 

Bellamy ran a hand through his curly hair and looked toward where the cars were picking up people at the sidewalk.

 

“Sorry, Griffin. If we are traveling together, I would just feel better knowing that you and I were at the same hotel.” He sat his duffle bag down on the sidewalk to give his shoulder a rest.

 

“Um. Okay. Thanks for consulting me..” Clarke huffed and pulled out her phone, Googling the number to the hotel she had booked.

 

She stood from the bench and made her way away from Bellamy to talk to the person who handled bookings.  _ Why  _ she wasn’t arguing with him over this decision, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was just comforting knowing that he would be nearby, like he said.

 

After she took care of canceling her reservation, she walked back to where Bellamy was looking at his phone, likely tracking their ride.

 

“Fine. Taken care of. You owe me 25 dollars, by the way.” She plopped back down on the bench and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

Bellamy wheeled around and stared at her incredulously.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Because that’s how much they’re charging me for canceling my reservation at the last minute.” She looked up at him pointedly and he rolled his eyes before looking back toward his phone.

 

“Our ride is almost here. Let’s go. I told him to pick us up at F.” He gestured to the giant sign marked with the letter F a few yards down from where they were currently camped out.

 

Clarke picked up her bag and moved in that direction, eyeing Bellamy as he walked beside her. 

 

He was concentrating very hard on the Uber app, making sure that he knew exactly where their car was at all times. Clarke considered for a moment that, if she had to be in Europe with anyone, at least it was with someone familiar with traveling.

 

Even if he was a total ass.

 

“Here he is” Bellamy nodded his head in the direction of an oncoming white Honda Accord. 

 

The car pulled up to the sidewalk and popped the trunk. Immediately, Bellamy bent down and took her suitcase from her, folding in the handle, and placing it gently in the trunk. 

 

Clarke was taken aback for a moment by the considerate gesture and took an inordinate amount of time to actually get into the car. By the time Bellamy joined her and greeted their Uber driver, she was still considering the action.

 

Maybe he wasn’t all jerk.

 

“Well, Princess. Now that we’re here, make sure to stick close.” He turned to her and smirked. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

 

Clarke glared.

 

Nevermind.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


They pulled up to the hotel about 20 minutes later and Clarke had to admit that it was nice. It definitely didn’t look anything like the hotels back home or like the chain hotel that she had booked herself. It was like an old, luxury apartment building in all white and as Bellamy opened the door and started to get their bags, the man at the front door rushed to help her out of the car.

 

“Welcome to the Kensington, mam.” Once she was standing on her feet, the man moved to help Bellamy load their two bags onto a rolling cart that someone had brought out. “We will make sure these get delivered to your room.” The older gentleman smiled at her and wheeled the cart in.

 

Clarke had to admit that it was probably the nicest hotel she had ever been in. Her family was definitely well off (Her mom was a  _ Governor _ , after all), but they usually stayed in the same, packaged luxury hotels. This one was different. More homey. More… classic.

 

She liked it.

 

They walked up to the front desk and Bellamy gave his reservation name.

 

“Also, we will need a second room for our stay.” He said as he pulled out his credit card for the reservation. 

 

The woman’s face fell at that.

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but we are currently all booked at the moment. There’s a convention of writers in town.” She seemed genuinely sorry to inform him.

 

Bellamy swore under his breath. 

 

“Is there anyway we can at least be switched to a double bed room then? Instead of the King?” He asked, his voice seemed off-kilter.

 

The woman stared at her computer screen for a moment.

 

“Yes, sir. We can put you in a double bed room.” The woman smiled at him and seemed relieved that there was an easy solution to the problem.

 

“Great, that would work, thank you.” Bellamy smiled gratefully at the woman as she handed him their keys.

 

As they walked away, Clarke couldn’t help but speak up.

 

“I could have helped pay, you know.” She meant for it to be a genuine offer of kindness. An olive branch of sorts, but Bellamy obviously didn’t take it as such.

 

“Oh, I’m sure you could’ve, Griffin, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of a hotel bill.”

 

Clarke bit back a sarcastic retort. They weren’t going to get anywhere on this  _ mission _ if they were constantly bickering.

 

When they reached the elevator, Bellamy pushed the button and they waited patiently for the doors to open. The ride to the top was tense and filled with awkward silence and when they made it to the room, Clarke breathed an audible sigh of relief at seeing her luggage and knowing she had something to distract herself from the tension between the two of them.

 

She was putting her toiletries away in the bathroom when Bellamy’s voice startled her from where he had leaned against the door jamb between the two rooms.

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

Clarke spun quickly around to face him and her hand drifted to her chest in surprise.

 

“I’m sorry?” She asked, confused as to what he was apologizing for.

 

“For earlier.” Bellamy clarified. “I know you were just being nice and I shouldn’t have been so snippy.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Money is just a sensitive subject for me. But that’s no reason to act the way that I did, so... “ He paused, breathing out quickly and straightening in the doorway. “So I’m sorry.”

 

Clarke blinked a few times, placing what was in her hand down on the countertop of the bathroom sink.

 

“Um, it’s okay.” She gulped down any further words and he seemed to accept that she wasn’t going to say anything else, as he nodded and retreated back into the bedroom.

 

_ Well, that was unexpected. _

 

She shushed her thoughts and continued to unpack her belongings.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Later that evening, they exited the hotel and searched nearby for a place to grab some dinner. They ended up finding a little Italian place just around the corner called Bella Italia. It was a cozy little hole in the wall type place and the food was delicious.

 

After the appetizer, Bellamy excused himself to make a phone call, so Clarke decided to make her own phone call.

 

The line ringed twice before he answered.

 

“You have approximately five minutes before we have a meeting with the partners.”

 

She chuckled at his greeting.

 

“Well, I suppose that’s one way to answer the phone.”

 

Wells sighed into the microphone.

 

“Yeah, well. I can’t be late. My life literally depends on my on-time-ness.”

 

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual word to describe on-time-ness, Harvard grad.”

 

Wells clicked his tongue.

 

“Not that I don’t love you and hearing from you, but was there an actual point to this call other than the joy of hearing my voice and making fun of my admittedly limited vocabulary?” 

 

Clarke bit down on her bottom lip, considering her next words carefully.

 

“Um. Yeah, actually. I just wanted to let you know that I wouldn’t make it to our lunch date on Monday.”

 

Wells laughed outright at that.

 

“Didn’t we  _ just _ decide to make the Monday lunch date a thing? And now you’re already ditching me on day one? You better have a good reason, Griffin.”

 

She could hear him shuffling around on his end and knew he was likely leaving for his meeting so she decided to cut right to the chase.

 

“Actually, yes. I believe being in a different country is a pretty good reason.”

 

Suddenly, the shuffling sound on the other end of the phone stopped immediately.

 

“I’m sorry,  _ what? _ Did you just say you’re in another  _ country? _ ”

 

She laughed humorlessly.

 

“Yepp, sure enough. London, to be precise.”

 

Wells was silent for a beat before speaking.

 

“What the fuck, Clarke? Are you alone? Tell me you didn’t travel to London  _ alone? _ ”

 

Clarke glared at the phone like he could see her.

 

“No, actually. I’m not an idiot.”

 

Wells breathe out a sigh of relief.

 

“Good. You had me worried for a second. What are you and Finn up to in London?”

 

Suddenly, Clarke stopped breathing.

 

_ Oh my gosh. Clarke,did you really forget to tell your boyfriend you were going to London?? Are you certifiable?? _

 

She pushed that thought away for another minute.

 

“Actually, I’m not with Finn. I’m here for a… work opportunity.” She knew that sounded weak, but it kind of was a work opportunity, right?

 

“A work opportunity? Who went with you? Harper? Lincoln? Jackson?” He chuckled. “Please, tell me it’s Jackson. I need SnapChat videos of the two of you arguing over modern art at some pretentious art museum.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes.

 

“No, actually, I’m not with Jackson. I’m with…” She paused slightly. “Bellamy Blake.”

 

This time, Wells’ pause was more pronounced.

 

“So let me get this straight. You, Clarke Griffin, have spontaneously left the country for the first time in your life, for a  _ work opportunity _ \- With Bellamy Blake.  _ The _ Bellamy Blake. The one you loath beyond all recognition?” The end of his sentence was higher than the rest, expressing his disbelief over what she was saying.

 

“Yes. Like I said, it’s for work.” She said determinedly, sounding convincing to her own ears.

 

Wells laugh was so loud, Clarke had to hold the speaker away from her ear.

 

“This is  _ too _ good. That man got you to go to  _ Europe. _ I like him. I feel like the two of us should bond sometime.”

 

Clarke scoffed.

 

“He didn’t  _ get _ me to go to Europe. I had to basically blackmail him to let me go.”

 

Wells was still laughing. 

 

“Whatever, Clarke. I like the influence he has on you. He sounds like good people.”

 

She suddenly saw Bellamy coming back to their table from outside, so she decided to cut this conversation short.

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re amused, but I have to go now.” She sounded petulant, she knew.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun with Blake. And listen, actually hear him when he speaks. I know the two of you ‘don’t get along’ and all, but he knows what he’s talking about over there. And I really want my best friend to come home unscathed.”

 

“Got it. Talk to you soon.” She said in a clipped tone, hoping Bellamy couldn’t hear her as he closed in on their table.

 

“Do all kinds of things that will make for excellent storytelling entertainment for me when the two of you return! Try to resist coming home engaged though, yeah? I know Europe is romantic and all but-”

 

She hung up on him as Bellamy sat in the seat across from her.

 

“Mom?” He asked as he took his seat and replaced his napkin in his lap.

 

She scoffed. “No, she’s likely in meetings. That was Wells.” She sipped on her water, eyeing the patrons in the restaurant.

 

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed somewhat. “Right. The best friend. How is he?”

 

Clarke’s lips twitched at the question. 

 

“Fine. Deeply amused by this whole situation, but fine.” She said honestly.

 

Bellamy smirked. “This situation? This Clarke-deciding-to-galavant-off-to-Europe-with-a-sexy-coworker situation?”

 

Clarke turned to him at that and showed her obvious distaste for that comment.

 

“One. You’re not my coworker. And two. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, now did I? That man said that we were  _ both  _ requested for this particular case.”

 

Bellamy smiled a genuine, real smile that caused Clarke to stop thinking for a second.

 

“So you  _ do  _ think I’m sexy, then?”

 

She took a second to realize what he was talking about before she rolled her eyes yet again.

 

“That  _ would _ be what you got from what I just said.” She said in an exasperated tone.

 

Bellamy just grinned wider.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re sexy too, Princess.”

 

Clarke could feel the redness taking over her cheeks and she had to look away from his sincere gaze.

 

“Who was  _ your  _ phone call with?” She decided to change the subject drastically. She had to get out of that conversation.

 

Bellamy raised his left eyebrow, obviously not fooled by her change in topic.

 

“A friend of mine.” 

 

She stared at him pointedly.

 

“If we are going to work together and be  _ successful,  _ you’ve got to be a little more forthcoming with information.”

 

Bellamy’s smile morphed into a thoughtful look. He must have decided she was right because he responded with more information.

 

“A source. I’m afraid I can’t give you more than that. I was questioning him about Diana Sydney’s involvement with this whole ordeal.”

 

Clarke immediately perked up at that.

 

“That’s right. You seemed to know who she was when that man mentioned her name. Who is she, exactly?”

 

For some odd reason, that question caused Bellamy to redden somewhat and cough into his hand.

 

“Um, she’s just a socialite. Very high up in London society.” He looked at the table before eyeing the kitchen behind her interestedly. “She’s helped me acquire some very expensive artwork before.  _ Legally,  _ mind you.” He said at her look of surprise. “And she’s donated some pretty amazing pieces to the museums over here.”

 

It was Clarke’s turn to raise an eyebrow in question.

 

“We met the first time when one of her pieces was stolen. She was insured by my employer. I recovered the piece, and we started a business relationship. She’s been very forthcoming.”

 

_ Interesting. _

 

“Hmm.” Clarke hummed, tapping her fingers on the tabletop. “I guess we have an ‘in’ then, if you know who she is. When are we going to meet with her?”

 

Bellamy cleared his throat.

 

“Actually, I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind my going alone to visit with Ms. Sydney. You would be bored, anyways.”

 

Clarke exhaled angrily.

 

“I thought we were in this together, Bellamy? Didn’t we agree to this? What would be the point of my coming all the way here and  _ not _ trying to help?”

 

Bellamy sighed. “I just know Diana Sydney, and I don’t think she would be… open… to meeting you.”

 

Clarke crossed her arms in frustration. “Well, then she’s just going to have to get over that, then, isn’t she? Especially if she’s a  _ criminal,  _ Bellamy. Or are you out to try and make friends with  _ criminals? _ ”

 

Bellamy’s gaze became more hostile.

 

“No, I’m not,  _ Clarke _ , but sometimes, with criminals, if you want to get anything accomplished, you try to make things as desirable for them as possible. Or they feel  _ less _ disinclined to help you.”

 

Clarke considered this for a moment. He was likely right, after all, she had never had any sort of dealings with the criminal underbelly of the art world. But she definitely was going to tell  _ him  _ that. And she definitely wasn’t going to let him go without her.

 

“I’m going.”

 

He opened his mouth to argue further but she cut him off.

 

“I’m going  _ with  _ you or I’m going  _ without _ you, remember? Your choice.” 

 

The server came then and sat their entrees on the table in front of them and Bellamy only glared at her over their steaming food.

 

“Fine.” He bit out. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Princess.”

 

Clarke gulped at that as Bellamy merely began to dig in to his meal.

 

She wasn’t going to regret this, right?

 

_ You absolutely are. 100 percent. _

 

She stuffed herself full of pasta before she could think on it further.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Clarke tapped on the screen of her phone, sending the message she had typed out to Finn before they arrived at their destination.

 

**Clarke Griffin** _ Hey. Made an unexpected, last minute trip abroad for work. I’ll be home soon. _

 

He texted back a couple of minutes later.

 

**Finn Collins** _Okay, sweetheart. Have a good time! Send pics!_

 

She pursed her lips. No “ _ What? What do you mean abroad? Call me? _ ” No worry?

 

_ Oh yeah. He really cares. You can tell. _

 

Their car pulled up outside a row of townhouses in a nice neighborhood. The streets were immaculately manicured. Even the trees on the sidewalk were trimmed and shaped appropriately.

 

Obviously, whoever this woman was, she was seriously loaded. 

 

“Thanks, man.” Bellamy said to their driver before opening the door and holding it open for Clarke to exit.

 

Bellamy gestured to the building before them. This particular townhouse was  _ beautiful. _ A soft, creamy white color, it stood regally among the rest. Even though the rest were beautiful as well, this one in particular had charming flourishes here and there in the architecture that caused it to stand out. There were beautiful flowers planted along the stoop leading up to the grand, double door entrance and their were antique flower boxes below each window.

 

And, if she wasn’t mistaken, the doors themselves were outlined in  _ actual gold.  _ Not bronze. Gold.

 

_ Um. Extra, much? _

 

“Who the fuck  _ is _ this lady, Bellamy?”

 

Bellamy chuckled.

 

“I told you she was a wealthy socialite. Were you expected a rundown apartment in a side alley?” He said in an amused tone before he turned to look at her on the sidewalk. “Okay. Here’s the plan. I go first, you follow after. She will probably be… less than welcoming to you. Ignore her and sit as quietly as possible. I will get the information we need from her. You listen and look around. I’ll focus on Ms. Sydney. You focus on what you see. You’re an artist. You will have a better eye for our surroundings.”

 

Clarke nodded, not wanting to argue with him on that point. Most of the people in her life didn’t fully recognize the value in what she did, but here was Bellamy, not only pointing it out but embracing it and understanding how she could help.

 

_ That’s actually pretty… thoughtful. _

 

Bellamy was walking up the steps so she trailed after him. He pushed the doorbell and they waited, Bellamy calmly with his hands in his pockets, Clarke anxiously, bouncing up and down on her toes.

 

When the door opened, Clarke could see over Bellamy’s shoulder. A woman - Probably in her mid-50s -  Had answered, wearing an extremely gaudy dressing gown.

 

_ Who the fuck wears something like that in real life? _

 

“Bellamy!” The woman’s face instantly morphed into one of pleased surprise. “Oh it’s so good to see you, darling!” She leaned forward and immediately pulled Bellamy into a tight hug and Bellamy was very caught off guard, patting her awkwardly on the back.

 

“Ms. Sydney, good to see you, as always.” He said stiffly, politely pulling himself from her embrace.

 

The woman smiled coquettishly at him and trailed her extremely long finger nail down the middle of his chest.

 

“Oh, Bellamy, I told you to call me  _ Diana. _ ” She grinned at him.

 

Clarke almost laughed out loud, restraining herself to a light chuckle. No wonder Bellamy had wanted to come alone. This woman looked like she wanted to eat Bellamy alive. Clarke had to admit that she was attractive in that glamorous old-Hollywood kind of way. Likely many years of procedures helped to aid in her flawless complexion and build.

 

Apparently her light chuckle was louder than anticipated as the woman looked up at that moment, having only just realized that Clarke was standing there.

 

The smile immediately fell from the woman’s face and she took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring in Clarke’s direction.

 

“Who’s your _ friend, _ bellamy?” She questioned through a fake smile.

 

“Oh!” Bellamy said acting like he had only just remembered Clarke was standing there. “ _ Diana, _ this is my  _ coworker, _ Clarke.” He emphasized both Ms. Sydney’s name and the word ‘coworker,’ obviously in a hope that it would appease this woman’s displeasure.

 

It seemed to actually work, though, because Diana uncrossed her arms, placing her palms on her hips and looking flirtatiously back up at Bellamy.

 

“Oh, I see.” She stepped closer to him. “Well please, why don’t you come in, Bellamy.” She pulled on the collar of his shirt and tugged him through the doorway. “Your little friend can come with you, of course.” She said dismissively over her shoulder.

 

Clarke wanted to snort, but wisely kept her reactions to herself, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

 

She understood now what Bellamy was referring to when he talked about the plan. This Diana woman obviously had a thing for him. He would handle questioning her, Clarke would act as the wallflower from work and disappear into the background. It would be the best way to scope out her house without her thinking anything about it.

 

They reached a sitting room of sorts and Clarke instantly took in her surroundings.

 

The walls were filled, barely any paint shown through the variety of paintings that hung on them. She gasped out loud at the artwork on display. Beautiful pieces from a variety of master artists. 

 

Dali, Matisse, Picasso…

 

Art from different centuries, different countries… This woman was definitely a connoisseur of all things fine art.

 

She must have heard Clarke’s reaction because she returned her attention to Clarke again.

 

Diana smirked and looked around the room.

 

“Yes, it  _ is _ impressive isn’t it? Most of it belonged to my father, who left it to me upon his death. They’re very nice to look at… Very  _ impressive. _ ” She fluffed her hair at that last comment and Clarke has to resist the urge to strangle this woman.

 

Here she was, in a house full of beautiful art, and all she cared about was how it  _ looked _ for her reputation?

 

She opened her mouth to respond when Bellamy stepped ahead of her, blocking her view and speaking quickly.

 

“Yes, it is. Very impressive, Diana. I’m actually here to talk to you about a piece today, actually.”

 

Diana chuckled. “And here I thought you were here to see  _ me,  _ Bellamy. It  _ has _ been so long, hasn’t it?” She said, sitting down on a fancy looking couch and pulling Bellamy down beside her.

 

Bellamy turned on the charm then, smiling at Ms. Sydney in a way that Clarke knew would instantly combust the panties of any woman it was turned toward.

 

_ Including yours, Griffin. _

 

“Oh I am, I assure you. I was so excited when I learned that you might be able to help me find this piece. I have so missed you.” He leaned in closer to the woman and Clarke bit down on her bottom lip to keep her reactions to herself.

 

Diana Sydney didn’t seem to find his actions inauthentic at all. Instead she seemed to flush in satisfaction.

 

“Of  _ course, _ darling, you know I would do  _ anything _ to help you.” She placed her palm on Bellamy’s chest and Clarke could feel herself flush further.

 

_ Focus, Clarke. The art. Study the art. _

 

She looked more closely at the art on the walls, looking for anything out of place there. Lots of beautiful pieces, but all seemed to be legitimate. None of them were ringing a bell for criminal activity.

 

Until… that one.

 

There, in the corner, mostly hidden from view, was a painting. The piano covered a large portion of its side, but Clarke would recognize those vibrant yellow flowers anywhere.

 

_ Poppy Flowers. _

 

A Van Gogh piece, formally known as  _ Vase with Viscaria. _ It had gone missing, stolen from a Cairo museum in 2010 and had never been recovered.

 

And here it was.

 

In Diana Sydney’s parlor.

 

“Well, you see, a very famous painting has recently resurfaced in the underground, and I’m very anxious to find it. I wouldn’t normally come to you with such  _ illegal  _ matters, but a friend of mine mentioned that you might be able to help me.” He said charmingly, placing his hand on the couch cushion beside her.

 

Clarke glared daggers at the hand, eviscerating it with her mind.

 

Diana giggled. “Oh, Bellamy, you know I don’t meddle in such things! But, I will see if I can help you, of course. Only for you.” She smiled at him.

 

_ Yeah, tell that to the stolen painting in the corner, lady. _

 

Shut up, Clarke mentally chastised her brain.

 

_ Are you talking to yourself now, Clarke? Maybe you really should’ve listened to your mother when she suggested going to see her therapist. She said he had done wonders for her peace of mind. _

 

“It’s actually really interesting, you see, it’s been missing for a  _ very  _ long time, but no one has heard even a whisper about it until this week.”

 

Diana perked up at that.

 

_ Probably wanting to get her hands on it herself. _

 

“Oo that  _ does  _ sound interesting! What’s it called?” She questioned eagerly.

 

“It’s called  _ The Concert _ and it’s a work by Johannes Vermeer.” Bellamy said in an excited whisper.

 

Instantly, Diana’s face fell and she pulled away slightly from Bellamy.

 

“Have you heard of it?” Bellamy asked, obviously having seen her reaction.

 

Diana laughed uncomfortably. “Oh, everyone’s heard of  _ The Concert,  _ Bellamy dear. It’s one of the most valuable missing pieces in the world.” She had slowly pulled all the way out of Bellamy’s space. “But I’m afraid I don’t know anything about its whereabouts. Whoever told you I did was simply mistaken. You know I don’t practice in collecting stolen pieces, silly.” She lightly slapped his shoulder.

 

Bellamy kept up the charade a little while longer.

 

“Are you sure? My source seemed very certain.” He said convincingly.

 

“Of course I’m sure!” She said shrilly. “I told you, I would know that painting anywhere, and I can safely say I’ve never been anywhere near it or  _ any _ stolen pieces, for that matter.”

Diana had dropped most of her pretenses, now. She was obviously struggling to stay calm, her eyes frantically shifting side to side, anywhere but Bellamy’s face.

 

Time to step in.

 

“Well, that’s not true, now is it?” Clarke spoke calmly from her place on the opposite side of the room.

 

Diana startled slightly, having apparently forgotten that Clarke was even there, turning to give her attention.

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,  _ girl. _ ” Diana said harshly, glaring in her direction.

 

Clarke’s lips twerked up at the side, and she could see Bellamy imploring her to stay silent from his place on the couch.

 

_ No. I know what I’m doing, Bellamy. Trust me. _

 

She looked at him meaningfully, telling him her thoughts with her eyes. He simply looked back at her, begging her to stop.

 

She continued.

 

“Actually, I do.” Clarke stood from her spot on the couch. “See, I’m a museum curator, with a Master’s in art history from Princeton.” At that, Diana’s face paled considerably. “And I happen to know that  _ that- _ ” She pointed at the Van Gogh work in the corner. “Is a piece titled  _ Vase with Viscaria  _ by Vincent van Gogh. And that it was stolen eight years ago from a museum in Egypt.”

 

Diana’s mouth dropped open and she started stuttering uselessly. Clarke walked in her direction, ignoring whatever look Bellamy was sending her way.

 

“So. Unless you want to tell me and the  _ authorities _ why it’s currently on your sitting room wall, maybe you should be more forthcoming with information regarding my friend Bellamy’s questions.”

 

The silence in the air was deafening and Clarke continued to stare the woman down, daring her to refute her obvious expertise. Instead, the defeated woman closed her mouth and huffed, crossing her arms, glaring at Clarke.

 

“ _ Fine. _ ” She said heatedly, standing from her perch on the edge of the couch and approaching Clarke where she was standing. “At one point, an unknown amount of time ago, I happened to house a painting resembling  _ The Concert. _ ”

 

Clarke smirked at the woman’s transparent attempt at plausible deniability.

 

“However, I’m sorry to disappoint  _ both  _ of you,” She turned then to glare at poor Bellamy who was still seated on the couch in silent pondering. “But I don’t have it anymore.” She turned back to Clarke. “I sold it.”

 

At that, Bellamy stood and approached the two of them, positioning himself slightly in front of Clarke, between them.

 

“To who, Diana?” He asked softly.

 

She scoffed. “It’s Ms. Sydney, thank you. And to someone you know well, Bellamy.” At that she paused. “Murphy.”

 

Bellamy’s head bent backward and his eyes drifted to the ceiling. “Of fucking course.” He sighed.

 

“Now, if you’re done with your questions, I ask that you leave.” Diana said, pointing to the front door. “And don’t bother returning.” She growled at Bellamy.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The door slammed behind them and Clarke waited patiently as Bellamy ordered another Uber.

 

He sighed deeply. “Well, so much for burning  _ that _ bridge.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he put his phone away.

 

Clarke turned to him.

 

“What were we supposed to do, Bellamy? She was  _ lying _ and wasn’t planning on giving anything up anytime soon. And she’s not even a very  _ good _ criminal. She has a ridiculously famous painting hanging on her fucking  _ wall. _ ” Clarke said in exasperation. “ _ Idiot. _ ” She mumbled.

 

Bellamy walked up to her. “I know that, Clarke, but she’s also someone that I will likely have to contact in the future to recover something for my actual  _ job. _ ” He sighed softly. “It’s okay. I’ll butter her up again, somehow.”

 

He smiled at Clarke when she looked at him from the side of her eye.

 

“Just not gonna bring you next time, eh?” He said with a soft smile.

 

Clarke couldn’t hide her returning grin completely so she quickly looked away as a car with an Uber sticker pulled up to the street in front of them. 

 

Once they were seated in the back seat of the car, Bellamy turned to look at her again.

 

“Really, though, you were amazing, Clarke.” She turned to him in surprise. “I’m serious. I never would’ve recognized that painting and probably wouldn’t have gotten what I needed from her if you hadn’t been there.”

 

Clarke wasn’t sure how to react. She wasn’t used to this genuine display of admiration from Bellamy.

 

“Um. Thanks.” She said softly, turning back toward the front of the car.

 

Bellamy seemed to take that as a sign that the conversation was over as he settled in to his seat. 

 

Clarke couldn’t stop thinking about his comment and how much it actually meant. Not just coming from him, but coming from anyone.

 

She felt competent. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was  _ needed. _ And even though it was only for her extensive knowledge of art, it was  _ something. _

 

She smiled and leaned back in her seat.

 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket so she took it out and glanced at the message on her screen.

 

**Finn Collins** _Hope you’re having fun!_

 

Attached was a selfie of him and a bunch of models and employees at a shoot for the magazine he managed.

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

_ Good to know he misses you. _

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


When they arrived back at the hotel, Clarke immediately retreated to the bathroom to shower and change into her sleep shorts and oversized t-shirt. She took a couple of deep breaths, looking in the mirror at her reflection.

 

She didn’t know  _ why  _ she was nervous. It’s not like Bellamy was going to be looking at her appearance anyways. But before she left, she still fluffed out her long blonde hair and rubbed her cheeks, making sure that she had removed all of her make-up.

 

Sighing one last time, she exited the bathroom and walked to her side of the room to take her meds and begin her nightly before-bed routine.

 

She finally swiveled around to crawl into bed but not before glancing in Bellamy’s direction. He was quickly turning away from her and pulling back his own comforter.

 

She paused, realizing that he might have been looking in her direction, before she continued tucking herself in.

 

As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she shifted uncomfortably at the overwhelming silence in the room.

 

“Clarke.” Bellamy started. “Tomorrow, I’m going to set up a meet with Murphy. He.. uh… he’s an interesting person, but definitely not someone I want you to confront the way you did Diana, today.”

 

She started to protest when he stopped her.

 

“No, I mean, you probably did the right thing with her, but Murphy won’t react similarly. Diana is mostly harmless. Murphy? He will turn tail and run so fast you’ll never catch him and never find him.”

 

She lay silently, considering his words.

 

“Okay, Blake. Whatever you say.”

 

She heard him chuckle in the darkness of the room.

 

“What’s so funny?” She questioned harshly.

 

“Nothing, Princess.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

 

This whole evening scared her. She couldn’t let Bellamy get to her. They couldn’t be whatever this was. 

 

What they  _ were. _

 

That was over and had been for a year.

 

“Don’t pretend that this… whatever this is that happened today has changed anything between us, Blake. We’re still us.”

 

Bellamy was silent for a beat before responding.

 

“Yeah, Princess.” He sighed. “I guess we are.”

 

He was silent after that and Clarke didn’t dare break the silence again.

 

_ Not sure that was necessary, Griffin. He was just being nice. _

 

She mentally slapped her inner voice and snuggled deeper into the covers, willing sleep to come sooner.

 

Anything to keep from feeling the guilt that was settling deep in the pit of her stomach.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Clarke.
> 
> So? Jealous Bellamy? Jealous Clarke?? My fav!
> 
> Any guesses on what happened between them before?
> 
> Thoughts on Diana Sydney? The email sender will be back next chapter.
> 
> See you then!


	5. Day Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem, hope you like that little nod to TV Bellarke in the chapter title!
> 
> Here we go, off to another country!
> 
> I dropped SO many hints at things in this chapter! I am anxious to see what all you guys find!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Day Trip**

 

_“Oh God.” she gasped, the feeling spreading from her toes all the way to the top of her head, toes and fingers tingling as she gripped his shoulders tightly._

 

_“That’s it.” He whispered as he thrust his cock inside her once more, deeper this time, the size of him forcing her pussy to accommodate to an extent she definitely wasn’t accustomed to._

 

_She whimpered slightly at the feeling and leaned her head back against the hard surface of the mirror behind her._

 

_God, what would her mother say if she knew she was getting fucked on a sink in the family bathroom of an airport?_

 

_The horror._

 

_His thrusts were quickening as he reached up and pushed the hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear and tilted her head up to meet his eyes._

 

_Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on hers, their mutual heavy breathing meeting as they inhaled the other in._

 

_“So fucking good.” He murmured into her mouth, capturing her lips with his own._

 

_She could only nod against his lips as they devoured one another._

 

_His cock was hitting places she wasn’t even aware existed and she could quickly feel her orgasm building, much more quickly than she had ever felt it before._

 

_He pulled away, looking down at where their bodies were connected._

 

_“Love the way your pussy looks, taking my cock like this.”’ He said lowly, almost in a growl, as his eyes returned to her own. His gaze was dark and commanding as he watched her face and the way she reacted to his ministrations._

 

_“Come on.” He urged, leaning back in, his hand coming up to grip her breast through her blouse. “Come for me, Princess.”_

 

_She gasped, her head hitting the wall once more as the feeling inside her threatened to consume her whole._

 

Clarke awoke with a startled gasp, sitting up in bed and clutching the sheet of the hotel bed to her chest.

 

_Ugh. Again?_

 

She was going to have to start taking sleeping pills. Especially if she was going to be forced to sleep in the same room as Bellamy Blake every night for the foreseeable future.

 

“Okay there, Princess?”

 

She startled yet again at the sound of his deep voice in the dark stillness of the room. She turned to find Bellamy, his head propped up in his hand as he faced her from his bed.

 

She gulped once, finding her voice before she answered.

 

“Uh. Y-yeah. Just a bad dream.” Her voice sounded hoarse from sleep or… something, and she cringed at its sound.

 

She couldn’t see Bellamy’s expression in the dark but she could hear his light chuckle as he continued to look in her direction.

 

“Yeah. Okay.”

 

She hated that she was the furthest from the window, suddenly, because her face was highlighted for Bellamy by the glow of the moon in the night sky. Hopefully her red skin wasn’t obvious in the muted blue tones.

 

“It’s okay, I’ll just start taking my sleeping pills again.” She said shakily, running her hand through her hair. She reached over onto the bedside table and picked up the hairbow she had left there the night before.

 

Putting her long hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head, she threw back the covers of the comforter and trod to her suitcase in the corner of the room.

 

“Sleeping pills? Does this happen often?” Bellamy questioned from across the room.

 

_Do I have sex dreams often? Not really. Not unless I’m around you and you’re stupid face._

 

“Um, sometimes.” She supplied, her back to him as she searched for her sleeping pills.

 

“You know, if you take that right now, you’re going to be out for a while. We have to be up in a few hours.”

 

She cursed silently at the observation because he was right.

 

Sighing, she straightened and made her way back to her bed.

 

“It’s fine, I’ll just make sure to take them from now on.” She said as she tucked herself in once more and cuddling under the blanket.

 

She could feel Bellamy’s gaze still from across the small space between the two beds as he considered what to say next.

 

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He sighed as he turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Tomorrow, we have to figure out where Murphy is. Once we do, it will probably be at least a day’s worth of travel, so be prepared.”

 

She stared across the void of space at the shape on the opposite bed that she knew was Bellamy.

 

“And how do we find out where he is?” She questioned quietly.

 

She heard him grunt tiredly as he settled in for sleep once more.

 

“Don’t you worry.” He yawned. “I have my ways.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help it as she stayed awake a while longer, watching Bellamy’s sleeping form in the night.

 

He was a mystery to her, really. No matter what had happened between them in the past. Looking at him now, she wasn’t even really sure _what_ she knew about Bellamy.

 

But she was definitely determined to find out more.

  


* * *

  
  
  


The next time Clarke awoke, it wasn’t because her fucking libido was out of control and mentally insisting that she jump all over Bellamy and his (undoubtedly) talented dick.

 

It was because of the sound of the balcony door opening and closing.

 

She peeked one eye open in time to see Bellamy duck outside in the cool morning air, his phone glued to the side of his face.

 

She sat up slowly, sleepily, as she watched him warily from her place in her nice, warm bed.

 

He was speaking animatedly at first, smiling into the receiver of his cell phone at whatever the person on the other end was saying.

 

Clarke couldn’t help her curiosity at knowing who it was that was causing Bellamy to react that way. Her eyes drifted to the bathroom door and back to Bellamy before she decided to conduct some secret mission work of her own.

 

She slid quietly out from underneath her comforter, padding even more quietly to the door of the bathroom on the other side of the room.

 

Once she was inside, she slid the door closed, locking it into place.

 

Her gaze shifted to the small window above the toilet, considering the probability of this plan working or getting herself caught. She decided it was worth the risk, climbing up onto the top of the toilet and sliding the little window over, the cool air immediately drifting inside and causing goosebumps to stand up along the surface of her skin.

 

“Yeah, the Kensington. You know I wouldn’t stay anywhere else.” She heard Bellamy tell whoever was on the other end of the conversation.

 

There was a pause before he sighed deeply. Clarke could imagine he was running his hand through his curly hair.

 

“Listen, don’t you think I know that, O? I tried to tell her to stay home.”

 

Clarke’s breath hitched as she realized that whoever it was that Bellamy was speaking to was referring to her.

 

He chuckled.

 

“You don’t know her like I do. She wouldn’t ever go for that.”

 

What wouldn’t she go for?

 

He was suddenly very quiet and Clarke had to strain to hear what he said next.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Honestly.” He paused. “Maybe this will be good for me. Help me get past it.”

 

What was he _talking_ about? She was so lost.

 

_Well, that’s what happens when you listen to half of a conversation with an unknown person that is absolutely none of your business._

 

Clarke promptly ignored that particular thought.

 

“I will, O. I promise.” He sighed once more, softly. “I love you too. Bye.”

 

Clarke suddenly stopped breathing.

 

_Wait, what?_

 

She slid the window shut once more, plopping down on the lid of the toilet she had been standing on. She was struggling finding her breath once more, even as she heard Bellamy return to the bedroom next door.

 

_Who was that?_

 

Obviously, she really _didn’t_ know Bellamy at all.

 

_Maybe you wouldn’t be so bothered by this new tidbit of information if you would just admit to yourself that -_

 

She stopped that thought before she could finish it.

 

Whatever. So Bellamy was in love with someone. That was fine. He was allowed that privilege in life just like anyone else. It wasn’t any of her business.

 

Even still, if the door slid open a little too harshly as she returned to the bedroom, it was _definitely_ an accident.

 

She steadfastly ignored Bellamy as she made her way to her suitcase.

 

“Good morning, Princess.” She heard him greet her.

 

She was a little more forceful than necessary as she unzipped her suitcase and started flinging clothes around.

 

“Um. Are you okay?” She heard Bellamy ask hesitantly, a little closer than he was before.

 

She huffed loudly.

 

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be okay? Everything is fine. I’m fine.” She said lightly.

 

She jumped straight up when she felt a hand on her shoulder, standing and turning to face Bellamy.

 

“I’m fine!” She said a little shrilly, causing Bellamy to step back slightly.

 

“Um, okay.” He said sarcastically. “Ignoring the fact that you’re obviously not fine, I just got off the phone with my source. I have a location on Murphy.”

 

She rolled her eyes and returned to her suitcase on the table, finding the outfit she planned for today and turning around once more.

 

“Fine. Sounds good.” She pushed her way past Bellamy toward the bathroom, only to feel him grip her elbow lightly, pulling her around to face him once more.

 

“Would you stop fucking saying the word _fine?_ ” He practically growled, and Clarke couldn’t help the way her pussy stood up and paid attention to the way he said it. “What’s going on, Clarke?”

 

He was standing far too close for her to think coherently, so she backed up a little bit and returned her gaze to his face.

 

“Nothing is wrong, _Bellamy._ ” She insisted, trying covertly to pull her arm from his grip, but he maintained both his grip and his distance, stepping in to her once more.

 

He chuckled mirthlessly.

 

“Princess.” He said lowly and Clarke’s nipples immediately stood up against the fabric of her night shirt.

 

_Shit. Don’t look down, don’t look down._

 

But as if he could hear her innermost voice, his eyes drifted down to her breasts, his eyebrows raising just slightly.

 

In his distraction, Clarke was able to pull herself free, crossing her arms over her chest protectively.

 

His eyes returned to hers once more and she dared him silently to say something.

 

“I’m okay.” She said, changing out the word ‘fine’ since it obviously bothered him so much. “Glad you got a location. How exactly where you able to find it so quickly?”

 

Bellamy sighed and took a step back, momentarily forgetting the charged atmosphere in the hotel room as he looked toward the window.

 

“Like I said. I have a source.”

 

She looked at him pointedly.

 

“You know, if we’re going to trust each other, we have to be honest with one another.”

 

At that, his eyebrow raised and he looked at her once more.

 

“Oh? Well in that case, why do you have sleeping pills, Princess?” He smirked at her knowingly and Clarke sincerely hoped he didn’t know as much as she thought he knew.

 

“I have trouble sleeping, _obviously._ ” She huffed, resisting the urge to stomp her foot like a petulant child. “It’s quite normal, I assure you.”

 

He was still smirking, his eyes floating momentarily to her crossed arms yet again before he found her gaze once more.

 

“Whatever you say.” He turned, walking to his side of the room. “My source is with the FBI. Let’s just say it is in their best interest to always have tabs on John Murphy.”

 

Clarke sat up straighter at that, watching as Bellamy stuffed his belongings back into his suitcase and preparing to seal it once more.

 

“ _You_ have connections at the FBI?” She asked incredulously.

 

Bellamy finished zipping up his suitcase before he turned to face her once more.

 

“Many of them.” He said with a small smile. “Now. Are you going to finish getting ready or what? It’s going to take us longer than anticipated to reach Murphy and we should get started.”

 

Clarke stood watching as he continued to gather up their randomly strewn belongings.

 

“What do you mean? Where is he?” She asked.

 

He snorted but continued his actions.

 

“Where else would John Murphy be?” He turned to face her then. “Ireland.”

  


* * *

  
  
  
  


They didn’t have time to stop for breakfast. Not a _real_ breakfast, anyhow. They stopped by another little place on their way to the rental car agency and grabbed some scones.

 

 _Scones._ Honestly, they were the best scones she’d ever had. They shouldn’t even have to call them _scones._ Or maybe Americans shouldn’t be allowed to call whatever the things were that _we_ made _scones._ Either way, she was pleasantly happy with her breakfast, even if it wasn’t a traditional one.

 

They ended up renting this tiny little vehicle that was much smaller than anything Clarke had ever seen in the states. She and Bellamy were practically side by side in the vehicle and she could almost feel him everytime he moved to do something as he drove.

 

Apparently, Murphy wasn’t in Dublin as she might have assumed. He was in Cork. And while she would’ve thought the fastest way there would be the train, apparently that would take over twice as long as driving and taking the ferry in Pembroke.

 

It was there that Clarke decide to lean against the railing of the boat, looking out at the ocean surrounding them.

 

It was a good place to think, a boat. She had never actually been on one before, but when you were surrounded by water with no place to go (or escape), it allowed for lots of contemplation.

 

She would need to call her mother, she realized. She hadn’t even told her that she was going to Europe. Granted, she kept waiting for her phone to ring with her phone call even still. Surely Wells would say something to her? Or at least the people monitoring travel out of the city would notice that the governor’s daughter had left the building?

 

And then there was Finn. She hadn’t heard from Finn again since his text message with his coworkers.

 

She sighed.

 

If she were honest with herself, it _did_ bother her that Finn couldn’t seem to care less that she up and left the country, nevermind the fact that he didn’t know she was with Bellamy. She _left the United States._ But he couldn’t be bothered to worry and wonder who she was with.

 

Almost by divine guidance, her phone rang. She anxiously pulled it from her pocket expecting it be Finn, but instead, she was surprised to see Harper’s name on the screen.

 

“Hello?” She answered.

 

“Clarke Griffin. It is now THURSDAY and I haven’t seen you at work TWO DAYS in a row. Are you dead? Were you wandering down the road when you fell into a large pot hole and hit your head, giving you sudden onset amnesia???” Harper’s worried voice drifted through the speaker.

 

Clarke couldn’t help but chuckle. Well, at least _one_ person in her life was worried about her.

 

“Actually, I’ve um.” She paused. “I’ve left the city on business.” There. That was a good way of putting it.

 

“You’ve… _left the city?_ ” Harper asked incredulously. “To go where? DC?”

 

Leave it to Harper to not leave well enough alone.

 

“Actually, I think currently we’re somewhere between Pembroke and Rosslare.” She said hesitantly. Maybe Harper wouldn’t recognize those places.

 

But judging from the prolonged pause, she did.

 

“Wait, wait. Pembroke? As in _the_ Pembroke? Like the U freaking K???” Her excited voice made Clarke pull the phone away from her ear.

 

“Yes, like the UK, Harper.” She sighed and waited for the onslaught of questions.

 

“Oh my GOD! You went to Europe! Why?! What’s in Europe?? Are you alone?? Tell me you didn’t go to Europe alone, Clarke.” She said the last part in a very angry-motherly tone.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes.

 

“Of course I didn’t go to Europe alone. I-” Another pause. This was _really_ going to cause Harper to suffer from like.. Heart malfunction. “I came with Bellamy.”

 

The silence that followed that moment worried Clarke that perhaps Harper really _had_ suffered from a heart attack.

 

When Harper spoke next, she was actually pretty calm.

 

“So. If I’m to understand, you, Clarke Griffin, Ms. I’ve-Never-Gone-Anywhere-In-My-Life are in Europe with the man that you supposedly can’t stand being around for prolonged periods of time. Yes?” Her quiet voice was very worrisome.

 

“Um. Yes?” Clarke’s confirmation sounded more like a question than a response.

 

A beat, then. “I can’t BELIEVE you haven’t told me ANY of this! I thought we were _FRIENDS_ , Griffin! I swear to God, you better be taking pictures and videos. And for goodness sake invest in a fucking SNAPCHAT, please. We, the lowly people of the world would like to live vicariously through you as you galavant through the most romantic countries in the world with the world’s hottest treasure hunter!”

 

“Harper, he isn’t a treasure hunter, he’s an artifact _recovery_ specialist.” Clarke reprimanded her choice of words.

 

Harper’s snort of disbelief was very unimpressed. “Whatever, Griffin. I mean it. Especially about the SnapChat.” Her tone was very serious and Clarke mentally added figuring out whatever the hell SnapChat was to her list of things to do when she had a second.

 

“Fine. Anything else?” She asked.

 

Harper was quiet once more before answering.

 

“Listen, just be careful, okay? I know I’m freaking out and jealous as fuck, but Bellamy doesn’t stay on the safe side of things, Clarke. There’s a reason why he’s effective. Just promise me that you won’t put yourself in undue danger?” She actually did sound extremely worried and Clarke felt bad for making her feel that way.

 

“I promise, Harper. I will stay as safe as possible considering the circumstances.”

 

Harper huffed before laughing once more, lightly this time.

 

“Can’t believe you’re-” She started quietly, almost to herself, before stopping. “You and Bellamy have fun, okay? And for once, _listen_ to what he’s saying. Not what _you_ _think_ he’s saying.”

 

Clarke paused at that. What did she mean?

 

“I have to go. Text me later?” With that, Harper was gone, and Clarke was still staring at the ocean wondering what on Earth she meant.

 

As she pulled her phone away from her ear to place it back in her pocket she felt someone move up beside her.

 

“Was that your boyfriend?” He asked.

 

Clarke thought about what to say for a second before she decided to go with honesty.

 

“Nah. Harper. She was just worried about me since I hadn’t shown up for work two days in a row.”

 

Bellamy chuckled.

 

“Always did like her. What about your boyfriend, then? Has he threatened to jump on the next available flight to get you back home with him?”

 

Clarke bit down on her bottom lip, thinking carefully about her response.

 

_No, he hasn’t. He’s partying it up with his coworkers. He hasn’t even asked who I’m traversing around Europe with._

 

“Uh, no. He’s fine with it.” She answered tentatively.

 

She could feel Bellamy’s incredulity as he turned to look at her.

 

“He’s _fine_ with it? He’s okay that you left the country unannounced? Much less with someone who-”

 

She cut him off before she could finish his sentence.

 

“ _Yes,_ Bellamy. He’s fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

 

Bellamy leaned back against the railing beside her hand so that he could see her face.

 

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but I don’t think ‘fine’ means what you think it means, Princess.”

 

Clarke turned her glare to his face at that and Bellamy held his hands up in a “I’m just saying” gesture.

 

“I just think that if I had a girlfriend and she left without telling me, _with_ a handsome coworker, I would definitely have more to say about it.” He was smirking and Clarke couldn’t help the fantasies she was having of slapping the smirk from his handsome face.

 

“Well, maybe we’re just more secure in our relationship then.” She said primly, turning her gaze back to the ocean.

 

Suddenly, Bellamy’s face was right next to hers, his lips whispering directly into her ear.

 

“Or maybe.” He started, his right hand coming up to rest on her hip, his thumbing tracing circles there. “You need a man who cares enough to worry, Princess.” He paused, letting his words sink in before leaning in and placing a lingering kiss on her temple. “Think about it.”

 

And just as suddenly, he was gone, off to another location on the boat while Clarke recovered from his close proximity. Shivers still wracked her body as she considered his words.

 

She knew he was being truthful. Her hands rubbed against her arms, trying to get the goosebumps to disappear.

 

Yeah, he was right.

 

But she wasn’t about to tell _him_ that.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ferries were much longer affairs than Clarke realized, but at least she was able to get up and stretch her legs. Once they reached their destination, Clarke and Bellamy still had another couple of hours to drive to Cork and Clarke was more than ready to get to their hotel and _stay_ there.

 

“You know, I was always under the impression that you could get to places a lot faster in Europe than you could in the states. This whole day has proven to me that Europe isn’t that much more efficient than we are.”

 

Bellamy chuckled from the driver’s seat.

 

“Well, you did just get from one major city in one country to a different major city in another country in less than half a day. I would say that’s pretty impressive. Besides, on the main continent, things are a little different.” He reached up to adjust the rearview mirror but kept his eyes on the road throughout his explanation.

 

Clarke had learned that riding in a car with Bellamy was literally the most boring experience she’d ever had. He would _not_ allow himself to be distracted. Almost even refusing to talk at all for the fear that he would do something wrong and would get a ticket or _worse_ get arrested.

 

Meanwhile, she was just impressed that he seemed so comfortable driving on the opposite side of the road. He obviously came here often.

 

They were getting close to Cork when he finally spoke more than one sentence.

 

“Okay. We’re almost there. When we get there, we’ll have to do some recon to figure out where he’s set up roost.”

 

She huffed at that, already tired from a long day of extended traveling.

 

“Or you can stay at the hotel, if you want, Princess.”

 

She turned quickly to find him smirking at the road.

 

“I’m fine, thanks.” She bit out, turning back around in her seat.

 

“Good.” He wasn’t even attempting to keep the smugness out of his tone and it infuriated Clarke to no end.

 

“What? Your FBI contact couldn’t tell you his exact location?” She admitted it was a little petulant of her to say, but she was just a tad bit bothered by that whole phone conversation for some reason.

 

_Maybe because he told someone that he loves them. Someone that’s not you._

 

She closed her mind to her own thoughts. It was ridiculous. She wasn’t jealous. And she definitely didn’t want Bellamy to tell _her_ that he loved her. They barely even _knew_ each other.

 

_Well, that’s not exactly true is it?_

 

“Actually, no. They only keep track of his city. It’s more of a… vaguely close watch.” He answered her question in spite of her poor attitude.

 

She sighed and leaned her forehead against the window of the passenger door.

 

Whoever this _Murphy_ was, he better be able to supply her with valuable information.

 

But even as her grumpiness shown through, she couldn’t help but drink in and appreciate the beautiful landscape passing by outside.

 

She was in _Ireland._

 

And it was just as beautiful as she had ever seen on her television. Even more so.

 

There were honest to God _castles._ They would pass by an abandoned one occasionally and Clarke would gasp every time.

 

If anything, being here made it blatantly obvious how _new_ America was. Back there, you would occasionally pass an old abandoned shed. Or a small house. But a damn castle?

 

She could stay here.

 

She smiled softly at the sight of actual sheep not far away from the road they were driving on.

 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” His voice interrupted her musings.

 

She pondered for a moment.

 

“It’s beyond anything I ever could have dreamed.” She sighed, realizing the truth in her own words.

 

This whole moment was giving her extreme deja vu. She glanced over her shoulder at Bellamy who was smiling, eyes on the road. She took a moment to study his profile, his strong jawline covered by a small amount of stubble

 

She could get used to this, she realized. Not just traveling and experiencing all these marvelous places, but traveling with _him._.

 

“See something you like, Princess?” He turned to wink at her then and she blushed, turning back to look out her window.

 

Maybe not.

  


* * *

  
  


They had made it to Cork and checked into their hotel. It became quickly apparent to Clarke that Bellamy had “usual” places he stayed wherever he went. This particular city housed a place called the Metropole Hotel, and much like the hotel they stayed in London, it was _beautiful_.

 

Bellamy told her that had the _best_ traditional Irish breakfast, and while she wasn’t too familiar with what that entailed, she couldn’t _wait_ to try it.

 

Alas, they didn’t have very long to stay in the beautiful hotel because Bellamy was dragging them out to the street to start their journey to find Murphy.

 

“The longer we wait, the further the painting will get. We have to find him ASAP.” He was obviously trying to console her sadness at not getting to stick around and rest for a moment. “Besides. You’re young! Shouldn’t you be full of vibrant energy?” He said with a smile.

 

Clarke gave him her very best side eye.

 

“You act as if you are twenty years older than me, Blake. What are you? 33?” She teased him.

 

Bellamy smiled a genuine smile, turning to look at her as they walked down the street.

 

“Been looking into me, Griffin?”

 

She ducked her head off to the side, pretending to study the bookstore they were passing.

 

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re on the news a lot and every outlet likes to tout your youthful bachelor status.” She rolled her eyes but it didn’t seem to phase Bellamy one bit, as he was still smiling widely.

 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, Princess.” He brought his left hand out of his jean pocket up to touch her cheek gently and she turned her face to look at him, startled by the intimate touch.

 

He cleared his throat, seemingly remembering himself and stuffing his hand back in the pocket of his jeans.

 

She could feel her cheek tingling where he had grazed her and wanted so badly to bring her hand up to her face, but she kept them to her sides, fists clenched tightly.

 

“We’re here” Bellamy said lowly, gesturing to the pub they had stopped in front of. He moved forward and pulled open the door for her to enter. She bit down on her bottom lip and entered the dark establishment.

 

Even though it was technically early in the evening for a pub, this particular one was pretty packed. Clarke was able to grab a single seat at the bar, facing the crowd and Bellamy came up to her side, his hand resting behind her on the top of the bar.

 

“I have a friend who frequents this place that should be here soon. Might be able to help us figure what hole Murphy is hiding in.”

 

Clarke leaned back against the bar and tried to ignore how it felt when her back connected to the warmth of Bellamy’s hand as it gripped the edge of the wood.

 

“Another friend? I’m starting to think you’re more friendly and charming to people who aren’t me.” She said sardonically.

 

Bellamy leaned in close and she could feel the heat from his face so near her own.

 

“Oh, I can be charming, Princess.” He said lowly, so no one around them could hear. “Would you like to see?”

 

Clarke gulped down her smart retort in favor of exiting the situation as quickly as possible.

 

“Nope. I’m good.”

 

Bellamy chuckled and Clarke felt his fingertips move against the back of her shoulder.

 

“One day, I assure you.”

 

She laughed lightly and pulled away from his closeness.

 

“I wouldn’t be too confident in that if I were you.”

 

Bellamy laughed and resumed his earlier position, leaning out of her space.

 

He turned toward the bar then, standing slightly in front of her as his eyes found hers. He nodded with his head.

 

“There she is.” His head was gesturing to a woman who just walked in. She was very pretty and also very… scary. She walked in an intimidating way, almost glaring at the people in the bar, the dark tattoo on her face a beautiful siren to those who were stupid enough to actually give talking to her a shot.

 

She snorted.

 

“Of course you’re ‘friends’ with the mysterious, beautiful woman who just walked in.” She tried and failed to contain her look of disdain.

 

Bellamy smirked down at her.

 

“Don’t worry. You’re still the most beautiful woman in the room.”

 

She blushed and looked down at his left hand that was resting precariously close to her knee on the stool top.

 

“But.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “We need to go talk to her. So, let’s go.” He pushed off the stool, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the woman who was now sitting in a dark corner of the room.

 

As they approached, Clarke realized that she was talking to a bartender who had come over to take her drink order.

 

“We’re out for tonight, I’m afraid. You want your back-up?” He was saying.

 

The woman sighed, leaning her head back, obviously put out by the inconvenience.

 

“Fine. Do what you must, Collin.” She had a deep, drawling voice and Clarke was more than a little intimidated.

 

The woman looked up as the two of them approached her and eyed Bellamy with interest, grinning widely when she recognized him.

 

“Bellamy Blake, how the hell are you?” She continued to grin but didn’t move to greet him in the slightest, other than with her words.

 

She looked to her side to see Bellamy grinning back.

 

“Pretty fucking great, Emori, what about you?”

 

 _Emori?_ What a pretty name. Much prettier than _Clarke._

 

_Your jealousy is really getting out of hand._

 

The woman shrugged. “Can’t complain.” At that moment, she seemed to register that Clarke was with him. “Who’re you?”

 

Clarke was only mildly surprised that the woman addressed her directly instead of asking Bellamy.

 

“Clarke.” She said, trying her hardest not to let the intimidation she was feeling shine through. “Clarke Griffin.” She wanted to lean forward and offer her hand, but Emori didn’t seem like the kind of person who shook hands.

 

She was eyeing Clarke with interest when suddenly her eyes seemed to register something.

 

“Wait. Griffin? As in-”

 

“Yes, _that_ Griffin.” Bellamy cut off the rest of the question.

 

Emori was looking at Bellamy now with an even smirkier smile this time.

 

“Well, well, Blake, I must say, I never thought you’d find the nerve.”

 

_Huh?_

 

Clarke was about to ask what she was referring to when Bellamy redirected the conversation.

 

“Listen, Emori, I’m glad to see you, but I’m afraid we’re in a little bit of a rush.”

 

The woman’s attention turned more business-like as she eyed Bellamy with interest again.

 

“Um.” Bellamy hesitated.

 

_Interesting. Why is he stalling?_

 

He scratched the back of his neck with his hand.

 

“We need to find the Cockroach.”

 

At once, Emori’s expression shifted from pleasantry to a most unattractive scowl.

 

“And _why_ would I know where the fuck that asshole is, Blake? You know we no longer speak to one another.”

 

She seemed downright angry now, shocked that Bellamy would even have the audacity to ask her that question.

 

_The Cockroach? That’s his code name? Really?_

 

Bellamy sighed, his hands falling to his sides.

 

“Listen. I know you two had a falling out.” He was nodding, obviously trying to console her. “But I also know that he’s your direct competition and you would never _not_ know where he is.” He put on his very best pleading face and Clarke had to internally applaud his ability to simultaneously compliment this woman whilst also calling her out on knowledge she obviously did not want to admit to having.

 

Emori pursed her lips in dissatisfaction, as she knew he was right. She once again looked to Clarke, her grin returning.

 

“So. Griffin. What are you doing on this little trip with Bellamy? If I recall correctly, you’re not exactly one for the criminal underground.”

 

Clarke looked at the woman curiously. This woman seemed to know a whole lot about her, considering she had never actually met her.

 

“We were both contacted from a source about a famous missing piece of artwork.” She looked to Bellamy to make sure she wasn’t spilling too much information but he was still looking at Emori.

 

“Emori.” The woman turned back to Bellamy. “We don’t have a lot of time. We know Murphy had it. We need to see if he still does, and if not, we have to follow the trail. You know the longer we wait, the less chance their is of recovery.”

 

Emori was back to full-on grinning now, looking back and forth between Bellamy and Clarke.

 

At last, she supplied them with the answer they were searching for.

 

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Blake.”

 

She felt her heart sink immediately.

 

“He’s not in town.”

 

Bellamy huffed out a rush of breath in disappointment.

 

“But…” Emori began again, and both Bellamy and Clarke stopped to see what she was going to say.

 

Clarke had to admit that this woman was one for the dramatics.

 

_Get to the point, lady._

 

“He’ll be back in two days.” She turned her full attention to Bellamy. “Other than that, I have no information to supply you.”

 

Bellamy seemed deep in thought, his hands resting on his hips as he stared down at the ground in front of him.

 

“When he returns, I will contact you and let you know where to find him.” Emori said.

 

Clarke looked over at Bellamy quickly.

 

_This woman has your number??_

 

Bellamy considered Emori’s words before nodding.

 

“Fine.” He stepped closer to Clarke, his hand coming up to rest on her lower back. “We’ll be staying at the Metropole.”

 

He started to guide Clarke toward the entrance when Emori stood suddenly, stepping out from behind her table and walking toward Clarke with her hand outstretched.

 

Clarke suddenly thought of all the different ways this lady might be able to kill her by disguising it as a handshake, but eventually decided that she wouldn’t be brave enough to try anything with Bellamy literally attached to her in the middle of a public location.

 

She reached her hand out to accept the handshake and Emori was full-blown Blake-style smirking at this point. Her eyes drifted down to the hand that was resting on Clarke’s lower back.

 

“It was nice to meet you, Clarke Griffin.” She grinned. “At long last.” Her eyes moved to Bellamy then and Clarke turned to look at him as well. He was glaring at Emori, his eyes narrowed in mistrust.

 

“You too.” Clarke said quietly, and then Bellamy was all but pushing her toward the door.

  


* * *

  


They were walking down the street toward their hotel, having been outside the pub for about five minutes when Clarke mustered up the courage to ask Bellamy what was on her mind.

 

“So what was that all about?”

 

Bellamy let out a puff of air, his breath visible in the cool night air.

 

“Emori is a fence, like Murphy. They dated once, for a long time. They broke up a couple of months ago and now aren’t talking to one another.” He chuckled. “But I knew Emori would know where he was. He’s her biggest competition, after all. If he stepped out of line she would need to know where he was to rain down hell.”

 

Clarke considered that for a moment.

 

“That’s interesting.” She paused as they continued walking. “But that’s not what I was referring to.”

 

Bellamy exhaled slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 

“What were you referring to?”

 

Clarke stopped walking then and it took Bellamy a second to realize she had stopped, as he whirled around in confusion.

 

“Are you really going to play stupid right now?” She questioned him in disbelief.

 

He looked to the ground then looked up at her through his eyelashes.

 

“Emori and I are just pretty good friends.” He laughed lightly. “I mean as good a friend as one can be with a criminal without being privy to their criminal activity and landing themselves in jail.”

 

Clarke smiled at that, but continued staring him down, telling him without words that she would wait.

 

He sighed. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Like. Since that first job I did for your mom, long time.”

 

_Oh._

 

Her understanding must have shown on her face because he continued.

 

“Yeah, so she must’ve just recognized your last name.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help but think that there was more to the story than that, but she decided to let it drop for now.

 

She started walking again and Bellamy fell into step beside her.

 

“Well, she actually seemed kind of nice.” She giggled. “You know, as nice as a criminal can seem.”

 

They started laughing together and Clarke couldn’t stop herself as her next comment spilled forth unbidden.

 

“I do think it’s interesting that you give your cell phone number to criminals, however.” She tried her best to curtail the jealousy she was sure he could hear but she failed miserably.

 

Bellamy pulled her toward him, grabbing her hand and smiling at the look on her face.

 

“Princess. Are you jealous that a fence has my number and you don’t?”

 

She pursed her lips and looked away from him to where she could see their hotel a block away.

 

“No.” She pulled her hand out of his and continued her walk. “I just think it isn’t very smart of you.”

 

Bellamy chuckled before she felt him take her phone out of her back pocket.

 

“Hey!” She said loudly, chasing after him as he backed away from her.

 

“Now, now, Princess. I think you’re right, we definitely need one another’s number. You know, since we are working together. For safety too.” He said with as serious face as he could muster and Clarke was not impressed.

 

“You just want my number.” She pressed.

 

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

 

She rolled her eyes and pressed the code to unlock her phone when he held it out for her.

 

“Fine. For safety.”

 

He laughed, finding her contacts and entering his number in her address book before calling himself from her phone.

 

“Yeah. For safety.”

 

He saved her number as they walked and they finally reached the lights on the marquee of their hotel. The man at the front door opened it for the two of them to enter.

 

“You wanna grab a drink?” Bellamy said, gesturing to the bar in the hotel lobby.

 

Clarke looked down at her dirty clothes that she had been wearing all day and considered for a moment.

 

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll just go change and be right down?” She asked it like a question, making sure that he was okay with waiting for her downstairs.

 

He smiled. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll just be at the bar.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder at the long wooden bar in the corner.

 

She nodded and made her way to the bank of elevators.

 

As she was looking into the reflection of the gold elevator doors, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

 

 **Wells** _Hope you’re having a good time. I told your mom by accident, by the way. Thought you would’ve already told her. So… good luck with that one._

 

She groaned and closed her eyes, tilting her head back toward the ceiling.

 

Opening up her phone, she navigated toward her mom’s name in her contacts.

 

_Might as well head off her rage with my own phone call._

 

It rang only once before she picked up.

 

“Clarke. Why on _Earth_ are you in Europe? Are you out of your mind? Are you okay? Are you alone?”

 

Clarke sighed, stepping into the elevator, as she waited for her mother to breathe long enough for her to answer her questions.

 

“Mom, I remind you that I’m 28. If I want to go to Europe, I can go to Europe.” Her mother started to say something more but Clarke cut her off. “Also, no. I’m not alone. And I’m here for work.”

 

Her mother was silent for a beat, obviously waiting to see if she was finished before she responded.

 

“For work? Work has never sent you to Europe before. Where are you in Europe? Who are you with?”

 

She loved her mother, honestly, she did, but sometimes she was just a little… much.

 

“Currently, I’m in Cork. And I’m here with uh…” To tell her the truth or not to tell her the truth, that is the dilemma. “I’m here with Bellamy.”

 

The pause was more pronounced this time.

 

“Wait. Bellamy? As in Bellamy Blake?” Her mother seemed anxious, borderline… excited?

 

“Yes mom, Bellamy Blake.” Her elevator dinged her arrival on their floor so she stepped out and turned toward their room.

 

“Ohhhh! Well that’s fun, sweetheart! I had no idea you two had gotten close!”

 

Clarke pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it in disbelief.

 

_Since when was her mom so familiar with her relationship with Bellamy? Or Bellamy in general? He did one job for her and suddenly she knows everything about him?_

 

“Um, we’re not really. We’re just here for work.” She said quietly, sticking her key into the door and waiting for the green light to allow her entry.

 

“Work with Bellamy? But Bellamy works for the insurance company, in art recovery. What on Earth would the two of you have to do together?” She seemed confused now.

 

“Don’t worry about it, mom. Just know that we’re together and we’re alright. I promise.”

 

Her mother sighed on the other side of the line.

 

“Fine. Just promise me also that you will be careful. I like Bellamy and I know he does good work for you and the museum, but I also know that he hangs about with some… less than savory characters.”

 

Clarke smiled lightly at her mother’s worry. Sometimes, it was odd seeing her in her role as Governor because she was so used to her mother like _this._

 

“I promise that too. Like I said, don’t worry. You know Bellamy wouldn’t let anything happen to me.” Clarke didn’t think she _or_ her mother _really_ knew Bellamy well, but if there was one thing they could bother see, it was that he had a very innate protective instinct.

 

Her mother scoffed. “Of course he wouldn’t. I’m not worried about _that_ part.”

 

Clarke paused in her rummaging through her suitcase.

 

“What does that mean?” She asked her mother in a confused tone.

 

“Oh, nothing, sweetheart. You two have fun! Maybe convince Bellamy to let you go to some touristy things, okay? You deserve this trip, sweetie.”

 

She smiled and laughed a little. “Yeah, okay, mom. I’ll call you again soon.”

 

“Okay, dear. Bye now!”

 

The line clicked dead and she tapped the red button on her screen, ending the call.

 

What was _with_ everyone? Why did all the people around her act as if they knew something she didn’t?

  


* * *

  
  


She finished changing clothes and grabbed her wallet from the bed before she walked out the door.

 

It had been about twenty minutes since she left Bellamy downstairs, so she hoped he hadn’t worried about where she had been. Her phone call with her mother had slowed her down, somewhat, so she was anxious to get to her destination.

 

The elevator seemed to take a while on its journey to the bottom floor, and she checked her phone once more.

 

Still no texts or calls from Finn. It had now been a whole day in another country and her boyfriend hadn’t bothered to contact her _once._

 

The doors finally slid open as she reached the lobby, so she stuffed her phone in her back pocket and walked toward the bar near the front.

 

When she rounded the corner, she looked up to search for Bellamy’s figure only to see him at the end of the bar talking to someone. As she got closer, she could see it was a woman with long, black hair and said woman was leaning over the bar with her hand on Bellamy’s chest seemingly laughing at something he had said.

 

_What is so fucking funny, honestly? He is definitely not that funny._

 

Even still, the sight of the two of them together brought her feet to a stand still.

 

_Why do you care anyways? It’s not like it’s any of your business if he hangs out with bombshells at bars._

 

She looked at Bellamy who was wearing this awkward, small smile as he leaned back slightly in his chair, his arms resting on the bartop.

 

She slowly backed up a step, before turning and walking in the direction she came.

 

Didn’t want to interrupt their conversation, after all.

 

_You’re so transparent, Griffin, honestly._

 

By the time she made it back to the elevator, her breathing was coming in heavy gulps of air and she leaned her head back against the cool metal of the elevator car as it ascended toward her floor once more.

 

Right before she reached her destination, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

 

 **Bellamy Blake** _Hey, are you still coming down?_

 

Her heart clenched uncomfortably in her chest.

 

_Just fucking go back down, you coward._

 

Instead, she gulped down her disappointment and sent him a text instead.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _Actually, I think I’ve changed my mind. I’m really tired._

 

She watched the screen as her message slowly changed from “Delivered” to “Read,” but he didn’t immediately respond, so she put her phone away.

 

It was only after she had walked back into her hotel room that her phone buzzed again.

 

 **Bellamy Blake** _Okay. Goodnight then, Princess._

 

She read the message and shook away the sadness settling in the pit of her stomach and behind her eyelids.

 

Quickly, she changed into her oversized shirt and sleep shorts before tucking herself into her bed.

 

_You really are a coward, you know._

 

But before she could allow herself to dwell on that thought much more, she had drifted into a very fitful sleep.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le sigh.
> 
> But I mean, would it really be a Bellarke fanfic without a bounty full of misunderstandings? Am I right?
> 
> Please comment and let me know what all you picked up on in this chapter!
> 
> I think I'm subtle, but like... probably not. So I'm excited to see what you all thought!
> 
> See you next week!


	6. The Cockroach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back!
> 
> This chapter is based on a lot of my own travels to Ireland and the time that I studied there. It was a nice walk down memory lane! 
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**The Cockroach**

 

_Clarke sighed deeply, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she maneuvered her car through the winding streets of her mom’s development._

 

_She wasn’t entirely sure why her mom thought it was important for her to still make it down for Sunday dinner on this particular Sunday, what with the current crisis happening. However, she was never one to turn her parents down and if she needed to see her only daughter to make herself feel better, who was she to say no?_

 

_Besides, her mom had played the lowball card and had her dad call her. Clarke was a total daddy’s girl and everyone knew it, especially her mother._

 

_“Come on, pumpkin.” He had said over the phone. “You know your mother is really fraught with anxiety right now, after the break in. Seeing you will do her a world of good.”_

 

_She glared menacingly at the street sign at the corner of the road ahead like it had personally wronged her._

 

_She wasn’t even going to get to see her mother very much. Most of her Sunday would be spent lounging about in the library of her parent’s mansion, reading a book and listening to Sara Bareilles._

 

_Sighing once more as she rounded the last corner of the street that led to her parent’s house, she resigned herself to her fate. Maybe she would call Wells and convince him to come visit. Although, she knew that he usually visited his father on Sundays as well._

 

_Pulling up to the gate that would lead her inside the estate, she punched in the code to the call box and watched the doors open, allowing her inside._

 

_As she drove around the curved driveway, she noticed a nice truck parked out front. One she definitely didn’t recognize._

 

_Ah, so that would be her parents’ company then._

 

_She put the car into Park and exited her vehicle, sluggishly making her way up the steps to the front door, where she used her key to let herself inside._

 

_Her father had told her to just go to the library and wait when she arrived, knowing that he and her mother would be preoccupied, so she made a pit stop by the kitchen to grab a box of Cheez-Its._

 

_Delicious snack in hand, she made her way to her favorite room of the house and smiled happily when she entered the library and the smell of old books reached her nostrils._

 

_She loved this place. She wasn't a lonely child growing up or anything. Her parents had showered her with love, all the while reminding her of her privilege and never letting her become crazy like the girls and boys she went to private school with._

 

_Like, seriously, those people were legitimately crazy. And half of them had dealers on speed dial._

 

_Perching her box of cheesy snacks on the end table beside the chaise lounge, she set off to find an old favorite among the stacks._

 

_Once she had located Little Women, she collapsed in the comfy chair, settling in for a long wait._

 

_It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes later when she heard the double doors open once more, announcing someone’s arrival._

 

_“Well, that was much faster than anticipated!” Clarke said brightly, sticking a bookmark into the book and laying it on the small table before she glanced up at…_

 

_Definitely not her parents._

 

_She one hundred percent didn’t know this man. And while common sense would dictate that she immediately should question him and his identity, screaming like a banshee, until her parents came to find her, she found herself unable to speak._

 

_He was wearing dark jeans and very nice shoes with a black blazer on top of a dress shirt and green tie that didn’t wonderful things for his darker skin._

 

_His hands were in his pockets as he leaned casually against the bookcase next to the door and when she finally reached his face, she saw a smirk plastered across his features._

 

 _She couldn’t even find it in her soul to call him out on his cocky behavior because he was just_ **_so_ ** _damn beautiful, that she found herself flushing instead._

 

_Like some vapid little sorority girl._

 

_He smiled a full smile then and she found herself entranced even more and after what must have only been a split second since he entered (Though to her it felt like years), he spoke._

 

_“Well, hello there.” He pushed off the bookcase and stuck his hand out to shake her own. “I’m Bellamy Blake.”_

 

Clarke found herself, once again, jerking awake that morning. At least, based on the light shining through the windows, it appeared that it was actually _morning_ this time and that she wasn’t, once again, waking up in the middle of the night.

 

She hadn’t thought about the day she met Bellamy in a very long time, although she supposed since they were spending a lot of time together, it was bound to happen at some point.

 

Determined not to dwell on it any longer, she cuddled into the covers and pondered the day ahead of them.

 

Emori had told her and Bellamy that Murphy wouldn’t be back for two days. So, what did they do in the meantime?

 

They were in _Ireland._ Would it be too out of the question to want to _explore?_

 

She turned her head to look toward her partner for this particular excursion to find him still fast asleep.

 

She smiled slightly at the picture he made. When he was asleep and his features were resting, Bellamy looked almost… peaceful. Much more so than the myriad of emotions that usually existed on his face.

 

She hadn’t been in the room for very long the night before when he had made his way upstairs. Not wanting to confront her own guilt at lying to him, she burrowed further under her covers and pretended to be asleep so she wouldn’t have to face him.

 

Hopefully he wouldn’t push the incident this morning.

 

_Well he should. Because you’re an idiot. You don’t even know who that woman was._

 

Did it matter though? I mean, she was obviously flirting with him and he wasn’t pushing her away.

 

Besides, it’s not like she cared if Bellamy flirted with someone else. She wasn’t interested.

 

_You’re pathetic._

 

Bellamy turned over in his sleep and before she had time to prepare herself, his eyes opened, looking into her own.

 

“Morning” He said softly, his voice full of sleep.

 

“Good morning.” She returned meekly, afraid that he would be upset that she ditched him the night before.

 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked instead, and she immediately felt even more guilty. She was the one who abandoned him and here he was making sure that she slept through the night.

 

“Um, yeah.” She stuttered out.

 

_Just dreaming of you. Again._

 

“Good.” He smiled softly before turning over and looking at the ceiling in contemplation.

 

She wondered how to broach the conversation of their schedule for the day, but before she could, he beat her to it.

 

“So, Murphy won’t be back until tomorrow. What do you want to do in the meantime?”

 

He seemed genuinely curious about her answer so she decided to be honest.

 

“I just want to… see.” She said hesitantly. “Explore. I’ve only ever dreamed of Ireland.”

 

He turned back to look at her with that the soft smile back in place.

 

“Okay. Exploring.” He smiled a full smile then. “That’s something I can do.”

  


* * *

  
  
  


After they decided to spend the day exploring, Clarke was up and out of bed before Bellamy could blink and getting ready for the adventure ahead.

 

Once they were both dressed, Clarke practically pushed Bellamy out of the hotel room, vibrating with excitement.

 

However, before they could make it to the street, Bellamy insisted that they stick around the hotel for breakfast for a traditional Irish spread.

 

She had been curious when he mentioned the meal the day before, but now that she saw it, she could see why everyone hyped it up.

 

Apparently, the Irish really liked their proteins.

 

Unfortunately, she didn’t have room for even half of her plate, so she shared what she had left with Bellamy and then they were finally on their way.

 

She had been googling all morning, but Bellamy was insistent that he take her to the places worth going.

 

First on the list was the English Market.

 

They decided to walk there instead of taking public transit because Clarke wanted to experience the city.

 

They had just crossed over the River Lee when Clarke sighed happily, looking around at all the colorful buildings.

 

“You know, an artist could get used to a country as in love with color as the Irish.” She smiled and looked at the houses lining the river. “I mean, this would be pretty great to see all the time.”

 

Bellamy snorted. “You can paint your own house any of these colors one day, you know. It will be _your_ house to do with what you want.”

 

Clarke shrugged. “You’re right. I guess I just grew up in a community with a Homeowner’s Association.”

 

They both laughed at that comment.

 

“Yeah, your parent’s community is no joke.” He said as the laughter died off. “I was always worried that someone was going to have my truck towed there, even though I was obviously allowed inside their property gates.” He looked over at her then. “Poor, Princess, growing up behind gates of boring, neutral colors.”

 

She turned to mock glare at him.

 

“I will have you know that I have amazing parents, ones who loved me and would’ve considered painting the house purple for me if we wouldn’t have been fined a few grand.” She looked down at the ground. “I was very lucky.”

 

She felt Bellamy’s hand come up, his fingers tilting her chin so that her face met his.

 

“You were lucky. But you realize that.” He smiled slightly. “I’m glad that you had such a good childhood, Clarke.” He backed away a step and started walking again. “Besides, it made you who you are. And you aren’t half bad most of the time.” He smirked lightly over his shoulder and she ran to catch up to him.

 

“You know, you never talk much about your childhood.” Clarke said, out of breath as she fell into step beside him. “I mean, you’ve insinuated that it wasn’t ideal.”

 

When she and Bellamy first met, it had been a bone of contention, her upbringing. He had never been forthcoming with details but she could tell he was resentful. It’s how “Princess” had come about, after all. What else would he call the daughter of the governor who lived in a gated mansion at the top of the hill?

 

Bellamy grew very quiet for a moment, and Clarke worried she had crossed some invisible line in their metaphorical sand.

 

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

 

“It wasn’t so bad, really. My mom worked a few jobs to keep us clothed and fed. Went to school, graduated with a full scholarship, and left town.” He paused. “I go back once a year to visit my mom. She’s doing well. Still works too hard, especially since she doesn’t have any kids to raise.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “My childhood wasn’t privileged, but I was well loved and looked after. No other sob stories. Just poor.”

 

They were walking up the busy streets more slowly now, Bellamy looking away from her towards the cracks in the sidewalk, almost like he was afraid to look her in the eye. Clarke considered his words before realizing she had almost missed part of what he said.

 

“Wait. What? You have siblings?” She questioned excitedly. She hadn’t known that. Bellamy never mentioned any brothers or sisters.

 

He smiled.

 

“Yeah. Well, one. A sister. Name’s Octavia.”

 

Clarke laughed at the name that was so obviously influenced by Bellamy.

 

He continued in spite of her mirth. “She’s a fireball. Couldn’t just settle down and have a normal, office job either. She’s all over the place.”

 

Clarke wanted to ask what she did, but she didn’t want to pry too much at this point.

 

Looking ahead, she stopped immediately.

 

“Oh my gosh. Bellamy.”

 

He paused, confused.

 

“What?” He looked around, wondering what she was referring to.

 

“That.” She paused for effect. “Is that _biggest_ Gamestop I’ve ever _seen._ ”

 

Bellamy burst out laughing as she looked up at the multi-storied building in wonder.

 

Once he had gathered himself, he shook his head and joined her in her observations.

 

“A Gamestop? Don’t tell me you’re a closet gamer, Griffin.” He looked down at her then.

 

She smiled a nostalgic smile.

 

“Nah. But my dad is. And he and I used to have whole weekends where we would play Legend of Zelda together. When I was really little, he would give me a controller and I would press the buttons and pretend I was playing while he was the one actually controlling the characters on the screen.” She smiled. “It wasn’t until I was much older that I could actually navigate the game on my own.”

 

She could feel Bellamy’s gaze on the side of her face, so she turned to meet his stare head on.

 

He was smiling at her, a real smile, and she found herself getting lost in the amazement of it.

 

“Well.” He looked briefly toward the building. “How about this. After we go to the Market, we will stop by and explore the obscenely large Gamestop.”

 

Clarke snorted and kept walking past the building.

 

“Deal.”

 

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence as the continued walking, until they had almost reached the English Market.

 

“You know, a couple of years back, the Queen of England and Barack Obama were in Ireland in the same week, and I was here for it.”

 

Clarke turned quickly toward him, eyes wide.

 

“Really??”

 

“Yeah.” He gestured to the Market up ahead. “She went to the Market too. I’ll never forget it. She was wearing this bright green suit and a matching hat.” He laughed out loud. “And she was much shorter than I anticipated. It was hard to see her over the crowds of people lining the streets.”

 

The two of them laughed, and for a moment, Clarke could forget that they weren’t supposed to be friends.

  
  


* * *

  
  


After the Market, they headed back to the hotel to drop off their new goods, which in Clarke’s case, was a bottle of wine that she was dying to try.

 

“Okay, so next on the list, is a place that’s a little special to me, so try and at least act excited when we get there.” Bellamy said sardonically as the two of them exited the hotel once more.

 

“I’ll try.” She looked up as she registered where they had walked. “Wait a minute. Are we taking the bus?”

 

“It’s easier, I promise. Don’t have to worry about finding parking that way.”

 

Clarke nodded.

 

“Oh I’m sure. No worries, I’m always down for an adventure on public transit in a foreign country.”

 

Bellamy looked at her through narrowed eyes.

 

“Careful, Princess. Someone might hear you and exact their just revenge.”

 

She smiled at his warning and stepped onto the bus as it approached. Honestly, when he used “Princess” in that kind of teasing way, she didn’t mind it so much. It was almost like he said it with affection in place of the resentment that usually accompanied it.

 

“I shall take your advice into consideration, I assure you.”

 

As the bus made its way to whatever destination they were headed to, Clarke couldn’t help but admire Bellamy from where she sat while he stood in the middle of the aisle beside her seat.

 

After last night’s dream, she was having trouble getting their first meeting out of her head. She had been so immediately stricken with him. And that wasn’t something she was especially used to.

  


_“Bellamy?” She said dumbly, staring at the extremely attractive man standing across the room._

 

_He looked at her confusedly for a second._

 

_“Yeah, Bellamy. The insurance recovery specialist?”_

 

_Suddenly, she remembered why she had been waiting for her parents. They had been in a meeting with this man, the one who had been assigned to find her mom’s stolen artwork after the break-in last week._

 

_“Oh, yes. That’s right, I’m sorry.” She stood then, making her way toward him and holding her hand out to meet his, which was still waiting for hers. “I’m Clarke.”_

 

_His hands felt huge in comparison to their own as they almost swallowed hers whole._

 

_She felt herself flush even darker at the realization._

 

_She looked from his hand back to his grinning face, trying her best not to be affected by the handsome man._

 

_“Nice to meet you, Clarke.”_

 

_He had such a beautiful smile._

  


* * *

  
  
  


“Ready to go?” Bellamy’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, forcing her back to reality.

 

She shook her head lightly, the fog of her memories still clouding her senses.

 

“Yeah, let’s go.” She said quietly.

 

He reached his hand out for hers and she hesitantly placed her palm against his. He pulled her up out of her seat to standing position, only for the bus to lurch as it stopped at their destination. She fell into him, her hands coming up to brace herself against his chest, one of his hands leaving the rail above them to wrap around her, securing her where she stood.

 

“You okay?” He asked, his voice rumbling against his chest where her head was resting.

 

“Uh, yeah.” She pulled away, the bus had stopped completely. She turned away from him, pulling her hand from his and exiting the bus.

 

She looked around. It seemed as if they were simply on a different street in a different part of the city.

 

“Where are we?” She asked as she felt him join her on the sidewalk, the sound of the bus driving away almost drowning out the sound of her voice.

 

She felt his arm come around her shoulders, lying heavy against the skin of her upper back that was exposed by her scoop neck t-shirt.

 

“My second home.” He led her down the sidewalk that was lined by really tall stone fence to where there was an opening a block away.

 

When they reached the opening of the fence, he led her through it and immediately, Clarke’s mouth opened wide in awe.

 

“What the fuck?” Looking around, they were surrounded by a giant castle of sorts that was square in shape. In the center of the giant building, young coeds were lounging on the grass of the courtyard, reading, laughing, and playing frisbee. “Where the hell are we? Hogwarts?”

 

She felt Bellamy chuckle as he pulled her further into the open area.

 

“University College Cork.” He said, his voice low and amused. “I studied here for a semester in college. Thus, my second home.”

 

Clarke grinned in spite of herself, the atmosphere of the university was vibrant and lively, and the castle itself made you feel like you were in another century.

 

“Wait. You _lived_ in Ireland?” She looked incredulously up at his face. “How did I not know this?”

 

He looked down at her, his amusement apparent.

 

“Well, we’ve never really had a lot of personal conversations, Griffin. I wouldn’t expect you to know where I went to college.”

 

She sighed, looking around once more.

 

She supposed that was true. She didn’t even know he had a sister after all. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that she and Bellamy weren’t even that close. What with how long they had known each other and all that had happened between them.

 

“It’s beautiful, Bellamy.” She looked up at his pleased face. “Really.”

 

“I’m glad you like it.” He said, honestly. “Now. Let’s see if we can find a frisbee game to join.” He grinned widely, and Clarke couldn’t help but grin back.

  


* * *

  
  
  
  


After they played around with some of the college students at the university, they decided to head back into town for lunch.

 

Clarke found it deeply amusing that they were here in the middle of an ancient country like Ireland and there was a McDonald’s on the corner. They didn’t eat there, though. They went to this little place up the road, and Clarke found that she quite enjoyed Bellamy’s traveling habits, as they aligned greatly with her own.

 

After they ate, they were walking back to the hotel when he pulled her into a giant place called Dunne’s, which apparently was a very popular department store in Ireland. There was even a grocery store in the lower level and Clarke thought it was the coolest thing ever.

 

They were walking back to the hotel when she brought up the one thing she still really wanted to do.

 

“So. I know you’re _leading_ this little excursion to all of Bellamy Blake’s favorite haunts, but there is one place I’d still like to go to if we have time today.”

 

“Sure, Princess. Where’s that?” He said, stopping to lean against the rail of the pedestrian bridge that stretched from one side of the river to the other.

 

She hesitated. Would he make fun of her for wanting to visit a tourist spot?

 

“Blarney Castle.”

 

He turned to her, smirk in place, and she waited for the onslaught of teasing.

 

“Oh, definitely. Everyone should get a chance to see the Murder Hole.” He started to walk away, at a much faster pace, toward the hotel.

 

“Wait. The _what?_ ”

 

As it turned out, he was being serious when he told her about the Murder Hole at Blarney Castle. Granted, she had never heard about that particular part of the tour, much like everyone else in the world. She just assumed you went, kissed the stone, and left.

 

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. They ended up touring the whole grounds, which included the gardens.

 

“A Poison Garden?!” She exclaimed as they walked up to the sign designating this particular garden.

 

Bellamy laughed. “Yeah. So be careful, Princess. I can’t go back to Illinois without the governor’s daughter. It wouldn’t be wise for my future.”

 

Clarke glared at him from the corner of her eye.

 

“Yeah, can’t have that. My life is inconsequential compared to that.”

 

“Absolutely.” Was his response.

 

They did eventually get around to the main event of actually visiting the stone, but it took a while as there was a very long line. However, Clarke wasn’t about to visit Blarney Castle and leave without visiting the stone.

 

It was while they were on their way back when Bellamy received a phone call.

 

“Hey.” He said, being careful to still watch the road as he answered.

 

She could hear a voice on the other end of the phone conversation, but couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

 

“Yeah, we checked in with Emori and she told us he would be back in two days.”

 

Ah, so it was the FBI contact then.

 

“She’s fine.” He glanced quickly her way and Clarke knew whoever it was asked about his traveling companion. “I know that, O. We’ve had this conversation and there’s nothing to be done. Now did you have any particular reason for this phone call or are you just calling to annoy?”

 

Clarke’s brow furrowed in confusion. Wasn’t this the same person he had declared his love to the day before?

 

“Yes, I know. I assume he will resurface at the SkyBox, so we will probably head there in the AM. I’ll confer with Emori later to confirm.”

 

The SkyBox? What the hell was that? _Where_ was that?

 

“I will.” He glanced at her again. “Don’t worry. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen.”

 

The voice continued, this time a little louder than it had been previously.

 

“Listen, I’m not alone at this particular moment.” A pause. “Exactly. We can continue with your admonishment and interference in my life later.”

 

His annoyed expression changed in an instant to one of fondness.

 

“I know you are. We’ll talk soon.” He sighed. “Love you too.”

 

There it was again. That sharp pain in her chest. Whoever that person was, they had Bellamy Blake’s whole heart.

 

“Who was that?” She asked. She was proud of herself, as her voice cracked only slightly.

 

He seemed to hesitate before responding, his hands clenching around the steering wheel.

 

“My FBI contact. She just wanted to make sure that we weren’t stuck on Murphy’s whereabouts.”

 

Clarke bit down on her bottom lip. She had hoped that after a day of getting along, he might be a little more forthcoming, but he was still holding back from her.

 

“You mentioned something called the SkyBox?” She asked curiously.

 

Bellamy’s eyes remained on the road ahead, but he answered nonetheless.

 

“It’s a nightclub between here and Cobh in the middle of nowhere.” He said. “Mostly a cover for illegal operations.”

 

She looked out the window at the passing hills of green and the occasional livestock.

 

She had never been around so many criminals before. She knew now why Bellamy had wanted to leave her out of this. But even still, she couldn’t bring herself to regret heading him off at that airport. This trip had brought her to places and allowed her to experience things she had only dreamed of.

 

If she had to confront a couple of criminals along the way, then so be it.

 

They pulled up to the hotel once more and handed off their keys for the car to be parked.

 

Darkness had taken over the sky and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer. It had been a very long day, full of fun and surprisingly… good company.

 

They walked into the lobby and both of them headed toward the elevators, seemingly knowing without words that it was time to crash.

 

No drinks would be had tonight.

 

The doors opened and Bellamy gestured for her to walk inside before himself and they leaned against the back wall, waiting for the elevator to take them to their floor.

 

She considered just continuing the ride in silence, but she wanted to extend a metaphorical olive branch of sorts.

 

“This was probably the best day I’ve ever had.” She said honestly, she looked toward him. “Or at least in the past ten years.”

 

Bellamy chuckled and looked down at his feet before facing her, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

 

“Be honest, Princess. It was because you were in the presence of an international man of intrigue.”

 

She snorted and turned back to look at her reflection in the doors of the elevator.

 

“Sure, Blake. That’s it. Definitely not because I was surrounded by beautiful sights and the amazement of centuries-old history.”

 

She knew he was still facing her, his gaze boldly lingering on the side of her face.

 

Before he could respond, the doors opened and she stepped into the hallway, walking to their room.

 

After that first night where they were forced to share a room, it just seemed easier and cheaper to continue sharing a room.

 

Neither of them fought it the day before and she didn’t want to linger on the reasons why she accepted the room assignment without protest.

 

She swiped the card and opened the door, holding it open for him to enter.

 

Moving sluggishly in her tired state, she grabbed her pajamas and headed into the bathroom to change clothes.

 

When she entered, she stared at herself in the mirror, silently reflecting on the day.

 

She hadn’t lied to him. It really was one of the best days she had ever had.

 

She didn’t want to linger on the reasons for that, either.

  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The next morning, Bellamy was gone when she awoke. She sat up quickly in bed once she registered his empty one and looked around the room as if he was going to pop out from behind the television or something.

 

She pushed back her comforter and walked toward the balcony doors, pulling back the curtains and looking outside to see if he was there.

 

He wasn’t.

 

The bathroom door was open and he wasn’t there either so she walked in and started getting ready for the day.

 

For a brief moment, the irrational fear that he had left her arose in her throat before a calming voice assured her

 

_He wouldn’t do that. Chill out._

 

She took a shower and changed into her day clothes. By the time she walked back into the room, Bellamy was there.

 

“Morning” He greeted as he swallowed down a bite of the food that was resting on the little table in front of him.

 

She looked more closely and realized that they were scones.

 

She smiled. That must be where he had disappeared to.

 

“We have a long day ahead, interacting with lots of questionable people. Eat up.” He smirked and gestured to the plate of treats on the table.

 

She did feel famished suddenly, so she dug into the nearest scone without protest, eating much more quickly than she usually did.

 

“So we are going to go ahead and check out for now. Once we meet up with Murphy, we will likely be on the road again.”

 

Clarke tried to hide her grimace at the thought of being on the road for a long period of time once more, but Bellamy must’ve caught it.

 

“Don’t worry, Princess. If it’s far enough, we will turn in the rental car and fly.” He chuckled. “Who knows what Murphy did with the piece. He would’ve gotten rid of it as soon as possible. Not one to hold on to contraband for too long, that one.”

 

She nodded, slightly consoled.

 

She had to admit, she was curious to meet this guy. From all she had gathered, he seemed like the sleaziest of criminals.

 

“We’ll leave as soon as we finish eating. Murphy won’t show up until tonight, but there’s one more place I want to take you before we leave Ireland for good.”

 

Suddenly curious, she couldn’t help but ask. “Where?”

 

He smiled at his plate. “You’ll see.”

 

As she considered all the different places that he could be referring to, she realized that somehow, in their short time abroad, she had started looking forward to spending time with Bellamy.

 

And in that moment, she wondered how long that feeling would last.

  


* * *

  
  


As they drove toward their unknown destination, Clarke mourned the loss of Ireland. They hadn’t even left the country and she already couldn’t wait to get back.

 

If she ever came back to Ireland, she might just stay.

 

It was beautiful, full of history, and the people were some of the friendliest she had ever come across.

 

Now, however, she knew they would have to leave if they were going to stand a chance of tracking down _The Concert_ before it disappeared again.

 

“I wouldn’t mind coming back here.” She spoke her thoughts aloud, turning in her seat to glance at Bellamy. “You know, when this is all over.”

 

Turning back to the window, she heard Bellamy speak from his place on the opposite side of the car.

 

“I know the feeling. Ireland has always felt like a huge part of me.” His voice was earnest and Clarke knew that he meant it.

 

They were starting to see more homes as the entered into another city. Clarke was surprised, as they hadn't been driving for very long. She had really been anticipating a more lengthy commute, but she wasn’t complaining at all.

 

“So. This is Cobh.” Bellamy introduced her to the city they were driving through, and more than ever, Clarke was enchanted. The houses that lined the streets were all beautiful and colorful. It was oceanside and people bustled along the street.

 

Looking out the window ahead of her, in the center of town, stood a beautiful, ancient Cathedral. It was perched at the top of a hill and it appeared to be watching over the town, visible anywhere you were in the city.

 

She gasped out loud when she saw it, the sheer presence of it momentarily overwhelming her.

 

Here. If she ever moved to Ireland, she would live here.

 

“It’s amazing.” She breathed out.

 

“It is.” He nodded. “Cobh is one of my favorite places to visit.”

 

As he drove them through the streets, Clarke became more and more enamoured with the lovely town. Amazingly, there was a cruise ship parked along the edge of town, harboured to allow people to visit.

 

“Speaking of luxury cruises, Cobh actually used to be called Queenstown.” Bellamy said, interrupting her musings.

 

She blinked rapidly. Why did that sound familiar?

 

“This was actually the last stop made by the Titanic before its first and fatal voyage to New York City.”

 

Clarke’s mouth dropped open, looking toward the cool ocean waters of the coast.

 

Yeah. Definitely here.

 

The further they drove through the streets of town, the more confused Clarke became.

 

“Where are we stopping?” She was itching to get out and see the town.

 

“Up there.” Bellamy said pointing to the cathedral.

 

Clarke smiled and suddenly became very excited. Another piece of history to enjoy.

 

When they made it to the cathedral, Bellamy walked straight in and made his way to a little room off the side. He knocked on the door and they waited patiently for it to open. On the other side of the door was an older gentleman who seemed especially upbeat.

 

“Mr. Blake! So good to see you! I had no idea you were coming to town.” He leaned forward taking Bellamy’s hand in his own and shaking it vigorously.

 

“Sorry, Mr. McConnell, there wasn’t a lot of time to notify you.” Bellamy smiled a genuine smile and turned toward Clarke. “Clarke, this is Craig McConnell. He’s the carillon player here at St. Colman’s.”

 

The man shook Clarke’s hand as well.

 

“Nice to meet you, Clarke.” He looked to Bellamy. “Did you want to go up?”

 

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah, I thought she might enjoy the view.”

 

“Certainly!” the man said. He reached inside the pocket of his blazer and held out a key. “Here. Take this. You can give it back to me on your way out.”

 

Bellamy nodded thoughtfully in his direction. “Absolutely, sir. Thank you so much.”

 

The older man nodded and shooed them along their way.

 

Bellamy led her to a staircase that seemed to go on forever.

 

Just when she thought it wouldn’t go anymore, it kept going up and up.

 

They finally reached a door at the top and Bellamy unlocked it with the key the man had given him. When he opened the door, he swept his arm outward, motioning for Clarke to go first.

 

Clarke audibly gasped at what lay beyond them.

 

It was a view. But it was unlike any other view she had ever seen. It seemed they were in the tallest tower of the church, which was the highest point in town. Looking out, the houses and the cruise ship docked in the harbor all seemed tiny. The ocean spanned as far as she could see, the breeze whipping the water about ceaselessly.

 

Embarrassingly, she could feel herself swallowing back overwhelming tears. She knew she would never see anything like this ever again in her lifetime.

 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” She heard Bellamy say softly as he joined her at the handrail that wrapped around the turret.

 

 _Amazing._ Honestly, that seemed too tame a word. But she wasn’t sure of a word that could adequately describe it.

 

“How do you know him?” She found herself asking. “Mr. McConnell?” She looked to him as he looked out over the ocean.

 

“His wife. I was in Cobh on a lead and his wife was robbed by a mugger who was running away with her bag.” He laughed. “Poor guy decided to run right past me and I clocked him right there in the middle of the street.”

 

Clarke could imagine the scenario in her head easily.

 

“Returned her bag to her immediately, of course. Cops arrested the mugger and I had a new friend.”

 

Looking at him, Clarke realized she was beginning to know more and more about the real Bellamy Blake.

 

Had she really misjudged him so, all these years?

 

They stood there for a while longer, just taking in the majesty of it all before Bellamy finally cleared his throat.

 

“Time to go.”

 

She sighed, upset that the time had come.

 

Looking at him, he smirked.

 

“Ready to corner a cockroach?”

  


* * *

  
  
  


When they made it to the SkyBox, Clarke looked around for the criminal-looking people. But honestly, the place seemed pretty clean and on the up and up. She had been expecting a seedy looking place crawling with people wearing leather.

 

_Judgy much?_

 

She huffed out a breath against her own subconsciousness. She couldn’t help her instinctual imagination.

 

Bellamy nodded to the man beside the door who nodded in return and stared at Clarke strangely, almost like he was sizing her up.

 

Clarke stayed close to Bellamy, afraid of anything that was to come. Even if the place looked relatively normal, he had already given her a heads up on what kind of establishment it _really_ was. Best not to let her guard down.

 

He led them to the bar, much like the night before and flagged down a bartender.

 

“Scotch, please. Princess?” He asked.

 

“Jameson, please.” The bartender smirked, turning to fill their drinks.

 

Bellamy was giving her an amused smile.

 

“What? It’s my favorite. Not just cause we’re in Ireland.”

 

He laughed and sat down on the barstool, patting the one next to him as he surveyed the club. There weren’t a lot of people there just yet, as it was still kind of early, but there were plenty of women who had sat up and taken notice of Bellamy as soon as they had walked in.

 

It irked her. Sure, they weren’t together, but none of these women _knew_ that. For all visual intents, it would seem that were a couple, but they didn’t seem to mind as they eyed him hungrily.

 

“Hey there.” She jumped as a voice sounded from beside her, on the opposite side from where Bellamy sat.

 

She had been so distracted watching the women watch Bellamy that she hadn’t even registered the man that stood beside her now.

 

He was cute, she supposed. Short, blonde hair styled away from his face, showcasing his straight white teeth. He looked like one of the college coeds from University Cork who had strayed a little to far from home.

 

“Um. Hi.” She said, unsure. “Can I help you?”

 

The man leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the bar top in what she was sure he thought was an enticing way.

 

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?”

 

She cringed at the nickname, but before she had a chance to respond the sharp tap of her glass hitting the bar in front of her broke the silence. She turned to see Bellamy gripping her glass in his hand.

 

“She has one, actually. But thanks anyways.” He said, his eyes dark as he took in the man by her side.

 

“Whatever, man. Just a question.” The man said before pushing off the bar and heading back to a booth in the corner where a group of his friends sat watching the exchange.

 

She swiveled around to look at Bellamy.

 

“You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve handled it.” She glared at him and the obvious display of macho manliness.

 

Bellamy snorted into his drink. “Sure, Princess.” He said sarcastically, the nickname back to the mocking tone of before.

 

So much for their day and a half of bonding.

 

She opened her mouth to give a smart retort when someone plopped down on the barstool on the other side of Bellamy.

 

“Heard you were looking for me, Blake.”

 

They both turned to the voice in question.

 

So, this was Murphy. He looked just as slimy as Clarke had pictured him, and honestly, how someone like him was able to land a babe like Emori baffled Clarke.

 

“Indeed. How’ve you been, John?”

 

The man looked around, trying to see if anyone was listening to their conversation before he responded to Bellamy’s question.

 

“Fine. Business as usual.” He took a sip of whatever was in his glass. “Was there a purpose for this little reunion or did you just miss me?” He finally seemed to register Clarke. “And who is this?” He said, a charming smile suddenly taking over his features as he looked her up and down.

 

“No one.” Bellamy said lowly. “The Concert, Murphy. Where is it?”

 

Murphy finally looked away from Clarke back to Bellamy at the mention of the painting. Clarke wanted to be indignant that Bellamy was once again shoving her to the background, but she didn’t mind it so much in this particular instance.

 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes.

 

“Look, we know Diana fenced it through you so let’s cut the bullshit, shall we.” He leaned in a little closer to Murphy then. “Besides, if you’re forthcoming, I might put in a good word for you to Emori.”

 

Murphy’s eyes cut to Bellamy’s. Clarke could tell that he didn’t want to admit weakness to Bellamy, but she saw the way his eyes widened imperceptibly at the mention of his ex-girlfriend’s name.

 

“I don’t need a good word with, Emori. I have a plan for that on my own, asshole.”

 

Bellamy snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that one. We both know it wouldn’t hurt your chances if you were to help me out.”

 

Murphy paused and weighed Bellamy’s words.

 

Strangely, Clarke found that she couldn’t look away from their conversation. It was like watching a chess match where you weren’t allow to see the other person’s pieces on the board.

 

“Let’s say I did know where this _Concert_ ended up after it left Ireland. You and I both know that it probably isn’t still _there._ ”

 

Clarke grudgingly had to admit that the man had a point. At this moment, it felt like she and Bellamy would be chasing after this piece forever.

 

_Like you would mind that._

 

“We’re aware. I’ll catch up to it eventually. Always do, you know that.”

 

Murphy’s fingers traced along the edge of his glass as he pursed his lips and watched the bar in front of him.

 

“All I have is a name. You know how this works. I get a name and a location. That’s it.” He looked around the bar once more, lowering his voice as he leaned into Bellamy’s space. “Wallace. Lyon. That’s all I know.”

 

Murphy pushed off the bar then, stopping only briefly to whisper something in Bellamy’s ear, his eyes finding Clarke’s over Bellamy’s head as his smirk took shape again.

 

Before Clarke could ponder what that meant, he was gone, disappeared into the crowd.

 

Bellamy was still watching the place where he disappeared, his hands clenching and unclenching on his knees.

 

“Lyon?” Clarke asked, breaking the silence that had surrounded them. “As in France?”

 

Bellamy downed the rest of his drink in what swish, setting the glass none too gently on the bar behind him.

 

“Yeah, Princess. France.” He looked at her then. “Better brush up on your French.”

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

This time as they walked through the airport, Clarke didn’t feel the same nervousness that she had before. It wasn’t like she was a seasoned pro or anything at this point, but she had officially had enough run-ins with criminals and escaped unscathed that she was feeling more comfortable with their mission.

 

“Let’s stop here and use the restroom.” Bellamy said. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

 

With that, he ducked into the men’s room and Clarke into the lady’s.

 

When she entered, she was momentarily hit with that same feeling of deja vu as she looked at the sink, trying very hard not to think about the dream she had a few days prior.

 

_Sure you don’t want to see that dream come to life?_

 

She mentally berated her out-of-control brain and took care of her business before she could dwell on the thought any longer.

 

When she exited the bathroom, Bellamy was waiting as he said he would be, talking to an airport worker who was pointing in a specific direction.

 

When she joined him, the worker walked away and Bellamy pointed in the direction he had been given.

 

“This way.” He said gruffly and hurried along.

 

“What? Never been to this airport before?”

 

They were flying out of Cork and Clarke could tell it was a smaller airport than the ones they had been in previously.

 

“No, actually. If I fly in and out of Ireland, it’s usually from Dublin.”

 

He was still staring in front of him, speaking in an almost angry tone and Clarke wasn’t about to continue to let it slide.

 

“Hey!” She grabbed his arm and the momentum pulled her forward, almost causing her to fall to the ground. Bellamy’s hand instinctively reached up to catch her before she fell.

 

“Whoa there, Princess. I don’t need a trip to the hospital on my agenda.” He said with that same sarcasm that she was so used to.

 

She shot him an impatient glare.

 

“What the fuck’s your problem, Bellamy? We’ve had a great time for two days and now what? Suddenly you’re back to being an asshole?” She was tired of this Bellamy. She wasn’t going to sit back and let him be moody for the rest of this trip.

 

He sighed, bringing his hand up to run through his hair as he usually did when he was nervous.

 

She waited, patient for the first time in probably ever.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said finally. “I shouldn’t have treated you that way, you didn’t deserve it.”

 

He started to walk again before he suddenly stopped and turned around to face her once more.

 

“Why are you here, Clarke?”

 

The question was so sudden and unexpected that Clarke wasn’t even sure how to answer.

 

“What do you mean why am I here?” She said, confused. “You know why I’m here. To get the painting. To make sure its recovered.”

 

His eyes shuttered a little bit at that as he took a step backward, his hand gripping his bag just a little bit tighter.

 

“Right. The painting.” He nodded. “Let’s go.”

 

Clarke watched him walk away.

 

What was that all about?

 

_Maybe that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear._

 

In her confusion, she followed him blindly to their gate, the wait to get on the plane short and sweet.

 

Well, if that wasn’t what he wanted, what had he been expecting?

 

That was the answer, after all.

 

The painting.

 

That’s why she was there.

 

Wasn’t it?

 

_You’re hopeless._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed all that mushiness because we won't see as much of it for a while. I thought it was important that the two of them had a moment to slow down for a day and just be.
> 
> Well? Hopefully, you've figured out who Bellamy's FBI contact is, but whatever is she saying on the other side of those phone conversations??
> 
> Also, how did they get from that first meeting to where they are today?? And how long ago was that first meeting?
> 
> All will be answered in time.
> 
> But I love reading your guesses so leave a comment and let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Until we meet again (AKA Next Sunday).


	7. Roar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday FunDay!
> 
> France has arrived and I think you will find that the stakes are about to increase in the next few chapters. These two really aren’t ready for what’s ahead. 
> 
> Also, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about the mysterious email sender. That person will return next week to meddle. 
> 
> They do love to meddle. 
> 
> Enjoy! See you on the flip side ;)

**Roar**

 

_Six months._

 

_That’s how long she had been Associate Curator at the Ark before she was driven to the edge of a nervous breakdown._

 

_“I don’t know what to do, mom.” She was near hysterics as she spoke to her mother over the phone. “It’s been six months and I still haven’t been able to acquire a new piece for the upcoming exhibit.”_

 

_“Clarke, honey.” Her mother’s soothing voice drifted through the line. “This is your first assignment in a brand new position. Surely, the powers at be know you’ll be a little slower than your much more experienced coworkers at making sure you get what you need.”_

 

_Clarke bit down on her bottom lip as she considered her mother’s words._

 

_Sure, no one has been breathing down her neck about finding the centerpiece for next year’s Renaissance exhibit, but she had dreams. Aspirations. She was never going to become curator if she couldn’t even accomplish a single task._

 

_“I know. I just wish I had a network of people to go to about this, but I just don’t. It’s something that you build over time, and I know this, but I am having trouble accepting that.”_

 

_Her mother sighed. “It will work out. I promise.”_

 

_Clarke used her thumb nail to chip away at the piece of plastic missing on the top of the table in front of her._

 

_“You’re right.” Chip, chip. “I’ll talk to you later, kay?”_

 

_“Okay, sweetheart. Make sure you call your dad today too. He will be beside himself if he finds out you called me and not him.” Her mother’s light laugh made her feel a little bit better._

 

_“Of course, mom, wouldn’t want to upset dad. I’ll call him after I get off work.”_

 

_“Good. Enjoy the rest of your lunch break. I’ll talk to you soon.”_

 

_Clarke blew out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding._

 

_“Bye mom.”_

 

_Touching the button to end the call, she leaned back in her seat, eyeing the table and its stupid chip angrily._

 

_Suddenly, someone plopped down in the seat across from her and she instinctively sat up in her seat._

 

_“Excuse me!” She almost squealed._

 

_Looking up, she instantly melted at the sight of curly hair and a pleased smirk._

 

_“Bellamy.” Clarke tried to sound annoyed as opposed to hopelessly charmed, but it was really hard to be angry with a face like his._

 

_“Princess.” He smiled that stupid half smile of his and she tried even harder._

 

_“Can I help you?” She sighed exasperatedly, failing to keep her amusement to herself._

 

_“No, but I think I can help you.” He said, his half smile morphing into a full one._

 

_She cocked her head to the side curiously, wondering silently how he could even begin to help her with her problems when he knew nothing about them._

 

_“I haven’t seen you in almost six months, and here you are out of nowhere offering your assistance to unknown problems?” She smiled softly. “And how is it that you know I even need help with anything?”_

 

_Bellamy’s face minutely shifted and she could see something hidden in his expression as he briefly looked at the wall and back to her._

 

_“Well, maybe it’s because half the coffee shop just heard about your issues acquiring a piece for the upcoming Renaissance exhibit.” One eyebrow rose in suggestion._

 

_She thought on that for a second. Did she say it was a Renaissance exhibit? She almost had a response formulated when he spoke again._

 

_“Or do you not want my help?” His smirk was back and Clarke’s heart fluttered a little faster. She recalled the last time she saw Bellamy, after he had found her mother’s painting, and her cheeks flushed pink. Suddenly, she was thankful for the dim lighting of the coffee shop._

 

 _“How is it you plan to help me, exactly?” She didn’t mention how odd it was, that here they were at a coffee shop in_ her _hometown, where he just_ conveniently _happened to overhear her issues._

 

_It was a little… suspicious, but if he was willing to help, who was she to turn him away?_

 

_“I think you will find, Princess” He leaned forward over the table, his knee brushing against hers underneath its surface and his fingers lightly finding her kneecap. “That I’m exactly what you need.”_

 

“Clarke”

 

A voice drifted through the fog of her daydreams and she was brought back to the present, where she and Bellamy were seated on a plane that was taking them into France.

 

When she looked over at her seat companion, he was gesturing to the window beside him.

 

“You’ll want to see this.”

 

She leaned over him to look at the view outside and gasped when she realized what he meant.

 

It was the Eiffel Tower. And it looked so tiny from their place in the sky.

 

“I can’t wait to see it up close.” She breathed.

 

It was at that moment she realized the position that she was in, leaning over Bellamy, her breasts almost brushing against his legs as his lower hand rested on her lower back.

 

She pulled back slowly, so as not to make him aware of how much his touch affected her.

 

How much it always had.

 

He chuckled. “It’s much bigger than you anticipate, for sure. I’ll never forget the first time that I took Octavia to see it.”

 

His smile was much softer when he spoke of his sister and she wanted to hear more, but at that moment, a flight attendant came by to tell them to prepare for landing.

 

“When we get to the hotel, I’ll need to confer with my contact at the FBI.” He started as he leaned back in his seat. “I have no idea who Wallace is. I’ve never come in contact with someone of that name in my networking, so I imagine he or she’s a very suspect person, even by my standards.”

 

Clarke was anxious, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip in nervousness.

 

Her hand was suddenly very warm as Bellamy covered it with his own, much larger one.

 

“It’s okay, Princess. I’ve got you.” He smiled what appeared to be a genuine smile before turning to look out the window once more, his hand staying in its place on top of her own.

 

The warmth of his palm seemed to radiate outwards to the rest of her body and his smile did the same to her soul.

 

This trip was growing more dangerous for Clarke everyday.

 

And not just because of the criminal factor.

  


* * *

  
  


They sat in the backseat of their rideshare and Clarke rested her forehead on the glass, watching the outside world pass by.

 

Why did it seem like everything in Europe was more bright and vibrant than it was in the states? She was sure she was just wearing rose-colored glasses, but she was much happier here than she had ever been there.

 

_Or maybe you’re just happy because of who you’re with._

 

The car was pulling to a stop and Bellamy started to unbuckle his seatbelt.

 

“Hey.” He got her attention and she turned to look at him across the seat. “The faster we check in and drop off our bags, the sooner we can go sightseeing.”

 

A grin spread across his face and Clarke’s own started to form.

 

True to his word, Bellamy checked in quickly at their hotel and they made their way upstairs only to drop off their bags before they were on their way again.

 

Clarke stopped him on the sidewalk outside.

 

“Hey, I’m going to call my parents quickly to let them know the change in plans.”

 

Bellamy nodded and pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

 

“Sounds good. I’ll call my contact now as well.”

 

The two of them pulled apart briefly for a moment of privacy and Clarke pushed the button on her phone to reach her parents’ home number.

 

“Clarke! My world traveler!” Her dad’s voice picked up and she smiled.

 

“Hey dad, I see you’ve been updated on the current situation.”

 

She could hear her dad’s chuckle through the phone.

 

“That you’re traveling the world on some mysterious adventure to recover stolen artwork with some dark, handsome Harrison Ford-type? Sounds like you’re life has become the plot of Spielberg movie, sweetheart.”

 

“Did you just refer to Bellamy as dark and handsome?” She asked dryly and her dad’s laugh only got louder.

 

“Your mother’s words, not mine, but seriously, how are things?”

 

She looked around at the foreign location and sighed happily.

 

“We’re in Paris.” She said, although she tried to keep the dreamy quality to her voice to a minimum.

 

“Paris??” Her dad’s voice sounded excited. “How romantic!”

 

She rolled her eyes at his antics. Maybe she should’ve just called her mom’s cell phone.

 

“Yeah, real romantic. I was just calling to update you guys on my whereabouts. No need to worry.” She looked across the way at Bellamy who was talking animatedly into the phone and smiling brightly at whoever was on the other end. “I’m fine.”

 

_Snort. Yeah. Fine._

 

“Well, I’m happy you’re finally getting out there, seeing the world.” He paused and she knew what was coming. “When you dropped out of your plans in college, I was worried that you wouldn’t take the opportunity again.”

 

Clarke’s voice became much softer. “Dad. You know I don’t regret my decision to stay home. I would’ve done anything for you. Still would.”

 

Her father sighed. “I know, sweetheart. I’m just glad you’re taking this opportunity to finally do something for _you._ ”

 

Glancing once more at Bellamy, she could see him end his phone call and look her way. She returned his look with one of her own, smiling softly.

 

“I know. Thanks, dad.” She looked away from Bellamy. “I think we’re about to do a little sightseeing. I’ll send some pics.”

 

“Yes! Please do!” Her dad’s voice sounded notably brighter. “Be safe. Tell that Blake boy I know where he lives and you better come home in one piece.”

 

She laughed. “Will do. Bye dad, love you.”

 

“Love you too, pumpkin.”

 

She ended the call just as Bellamy approached her once more.

 

“How are your parents?” He inquired politely.

 

“They’re fine. One’s happy I’m finally realizing my travelling potential and the other is scared I’m going to end up zip-tied to a chair.”

 

Bellamy barked out a laugh at that.

 

“So your mom is worried, then?” He asked as they fell into step on the sidewalk.

 

“Yeah, just a little. But she is glad I’m with you, at least.” She shrugged her shoulder, going for nonchalance but not quite achieving it.

 

Bellamy glanced in her direction.

 

“Well, that’s interesting. I would’ve thought she would rather you be in Europe with your white-privilege boyfriend.”

 

Clarke glared in his direction.

 

“One, don’t be mean to Finn.” Bellamy snorted. “Two, you act like my mom has a problem with you or something. You helped her out tremendously, in case you don’t remember. And she knows you travel a lot, so that makes her feel better about my safety.”

 

“I just wouldn’t have pictured her being so accepting of her little Princess galavanting around with the likes of me.”

 

Clarke stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling his arm backwards to bring him to a stop as well.

 

“What’s up with you? Why are you acting like my family is some elitist family unit? Just because my mom is the governor and wealthy doesn’t mean she is automatically a terrible human being who thinks others are beneath her.”

 

Bellamy had the grace to look ashamed as he glared at a spot over her shoulder.

 

“I know that.” He said gruffly before sighing. “I guess I’ve just spent my life helping a bunch of rich people who did, in fact, think that way.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So, I’m sorry.”

 

He looked up at her from under the hair falling in front of his eyes and Clarke was hard pressed to stay upset with him. She knew Bellamy hadn’t had it easy growing up and had likely been treated poorly, by some of her parents’ friends even.

 

“You’re forgiven.” She smiled slightly. “Now.” She turned toward the direction they had been walking and continued their trek. “Where are we going?”

 

He was walking beside her again when he spoke. “Well, I figured we could have some fun before we continue our mission.”

 

She smiled slightly, her arms crossing in front of her chest.

 

“I like the sound of that! What _did_ you find out pertaining to our quest, anyway?”

 

He blew out a breath. “Wallace is a last name, apparently. It’s a family of criminals, the head of which is a man named Dante. Now _that_ name I’ve heard of.” He paused and shook his head. “He has a den of sin on the edge of town. A speakeasy, actually.”

 

Clarke turned at that.

 

“Yeah, just like the ones in the 20’s. Actually, it’s one that’s _been_ there since the 20s. Dante’s dad owned it and he just decided to keep it going long after prohibition ended.”

 

Clarke thought about that as they walked down the sidewalk, gazing at the people passing by.

 

“So we’re going to a speakeasy?” She asked incredulously, turning back to him once more. “I have absolutely nothing to wear to a speakeasy.” She looked down at her jeans and t-shirt.

 

Bellamy chuckled.

 

“Well, first we have to figure out the password. _Then_ we’re going to a speakeasy.” He turned slightly and eyed her up and down. “And I guess we can go shopping, if we need to.”

 

Clarke pondered the idea of going to some smoky underground club where women would undoubtedly be in their flashiest of ensembles.

 

“Yeah. Definitely shopping.”

 

Bellamy smirked.

 

“As you wish, Princess.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


A little while later, not only had Clarke and Bellamy each picked up an outfit to help them blend in a little better at Wallace’s club, but they had also gone to visit the Eiffel Tower in person.

 

Clarke wanted lots of pictures, so she made Bellamy take them as she performed various acts and poses in front of the giant structure. At one point, this sweet older couple saw the two of them taking pictures and volunteered to take their picture together.

 

They posed in a friendly manner until the little old lady commented that Bellamy “really should act like he loved his girlfriend more” and before Clarke could correct the woman, he had pulled her in close to his chest and was kissing her on the cheek, his face nuzzled into hers.

 

Once the couple left, they never spoke of the picture and Clarke quietly studied it in her phone, instantly dubbing it her favorite. The two of them were all smiles in the picture, even Clarke, who had been caught totally by surprise at his actions. Her nose was scrunched up and her hands were on his chest, holding herself up. She saved it as the wallpaper for her home screen, but not her lock screen. It wasn’t like Bellamy would ever see anything but her lockscreen anyways.

 

As they made their way back to the hotel, Clarke was trying to call Finn, but he wasn’t answering.

 

“What kind of guy doesn’t immediately answer the phone when his girlfriend is calling from another country?” Bellamy said gruffly at her side and Clarke sighed.

 

“He’s probably just busy.” She mumbled and shoved it back in her jacket pocket.

 

Bellamy snorted. “It’s eight in the morning there. What could he possibly be doing this early in the day that he couldn’t pull himself away from his phone, even for a second?”

 

She felt his words somewhere deep inside of her. And not because she was legitimately bothered that Finn wasn’t picking up his phone.

 

But because she didn’t _care_ that he wasn’t picking up his phone.

 

So maybe she needed to do what she should’ve done ages ago.

 

“Well, he will call back. I’m not worried about it.”

 

Bellamy seemed genuinely put out by her apathy at the whole situation, as if he was personally affronted by Finn’s actions even if she wasn’t.

 

When they reached the hotel, Clarke excused herself to their little iron balcony and called Finn once more.

 

Again, he didn’t answer and Clarke was anxious to get this conversation over with.

 

She didn’t think it needed to wait until she got back to the states because who knew how long that would be. No need in stringing him along while she was away.

 

Especially when half the time she forgot to even check in with him.

 

“Hey Finn. Listen, it’s me.” Clarke said to the voicemail. “We need to talk. Please call me back when you get this, it’s very important.”

 

She tapped the screen to end the call and couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

 

She didn’t want to be _that_ girl. The one who broke up with her boyfriend over the phone.

 

But she didn’t really have a lot of options at the moment and all of a sudden, their separation seemed to have found a great deal of importance to her brain.

 

When she stepped back into the hotel room, she felt the air leave her in a rush.

 

Bellamy was rummaging through his suitcase and apparently he was looking for a shirt because he definitely wasn’t wearing one.

 

She couldn’t remember ever actually seeing him without a shirt before, now that she thought about it. If she had, she would have remembered because he was truly a sight to behold. Long, sleek muscles and even more freckles across his upper back that Clarke would love to…

 

“Did you get in touch with him?”

 

She physically jerked from her musings, looking up into Bellamy’s very amused face and cleared her throat.

 

“Um. No, not yet. I left a voicemail.” She moved quickly to her own suitcase on the other side of the room, avoiding moving too close to him as she passed by.

 

She was moving her belongings around, trying to find her jewelry pouch to get ready for their next great adventure when she felt a hand rest on her hip.

 

She inhaled sharply and felt Bellamy step closer to her from behind, his hand gripping her firmly, fingers reaching across her stomach.

 

“Why are you so anxious to get in touch with your boyfriend all of a sudden, Princess?”

 

She turned around to face him, not really moving to remove his hand from her person as it continued to rest on her hip.

 

“I just need to talk to him. It’s really none of your business.” She stepped back then and his hand dropped between them, hanging loosely at his side.

 

His face had that insufferable knowing look he often had when he knew he _had_ her on something.

 

“Oh, I’m sure.” He stepped back but continued gazing at her. “Let me know when he returns the call.” He winked and turned around, walking toward the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

 

Clarke gulped, looking down and seeing her jewelry bag sticking out behind one of her t-shirts, she grabbed it and held it close to her chest.

 

Bellamy definitely had nothing to do with her breaking up with Finn.

 

Right?

 

_You’re cute._

  


* * *

  
  


Later that evening, Clarke was putting the finishing touches on her make-up in the bathroom mirror when Bellamy peaked his head inside.

 

“I have the password.” He grinned at her, stepping further inside upon seeing her dressed and mostly ready to go. “Well, well.” He stepped up behind her, his hand drifting up as his fingers brushed against the small hairs on the back of her neck. “You clean up nicely.” His eyes found hers in the mirror and she struggled to contain her shiver at his actions.

 

In keeping with the decade theme, she had curled her hair and pinned it up in an updo that rested low on the back of her head. Her dress was black, simple but elegant and would definitely cause less attention than her usual casual attire. The straps of the dress rested precariously on the edge of her shoulders, exposing her collarbone and the edge of the top of her cleavage.

 

“Thanks.” She said, almost in a whisper, taking in his outfit as well. He was wearing a nice suit with a pinstripe tie and a double button blazer. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

His eyes that had drifted down her reflection flickered to hers once more.

 

“Wait till you see my hat.”

 

She smiled at that, imagining Bellamy in the hats she had often seen mobsters wear in movies.

 

“I’m sure it will make you look very dashing.”

 

He grinned at her brightly then.

 

“Don’t I always, Princess?”

 

She rolled her eyes and turned around, pushing past him to exit the bathroom.

 

“How did you get ahold of the password, anyways?”

 

He opened his mouth to respond to her question when Clarke cut him off.

 

“And don’t say ‘connections.’” She said irritably.

 

He gave her an equally exasperated look.

 

“Fine. I happen to know a supplier in this particular city who sells to clients that frequent Wallace’s club. He was willing to find and deliver this evening’s password in return for a small favor.” He straightened his tie in the mirror beside the door to the bathroom.

 

Clarke turned quickly to look at him, suddenly worried.

 

“A favor? What kind of favor? You do favors for people?”

 

Bellamy chuckled at her worry. “Of course I do. How else would I be able to have a network of suspect-type people who supply me with information?”

 

Clarke’s face reddened as she realized that he was absolutely right. Criminals didn’t money, really. They could obtain that through other means.

 

“So what was the favor you promised this guy?”

 

Bellamy sighed and turned to face her, his tie abandoned.

 

“He hasn’t cashed in just yet. He’ll call in the next few months, I’m sure, with his own request. But they’re not stupid. They know that I don’t walk on their side of the law, so they never ask for anything I can’t supply. Most people ask for information due to my connections with law enforcement. Locating family they’ve lost track of, putting in a good word with a different criminal, excetera.”

 

Clarke pondered that for a moment before deciding that really that wasn’t too huge of a deal, especially considering what good things Bellamy was able to do with his underground network.

 

“Well. Just be careful.” She said, turning to walk toward the door. “Now. Are we going or not?”

 

She reached forward to open the door when Bellamy’s hand came up and closed it once more. His hand came to her shoulder and turned her to face him, his close proximity causing goosebumps to reappear on her arms.

 

“Don’t worry about me, Princess. I know what I’m doing.” He said lowly, his eyes falling to her lips and rising to find hers once again.

 

“I know you do, Bellamy.” She admitted. “Just don’t get cocky.”

 

His face morphed from serious to smarmy in a second.

 

“Too late, I’m afraid.”

 

She scoffed and pushed him further away from her.

 

“You’re insufferable.”

 

All she could hear as she turned her back was his low chuckling as he followed her out into the hallway.

  


* * *

  
  


“What’s this place even called?” Clarke leaned over to whisper to Bellamy as they walked along the sidewalk in a very sketchy neighborhood. She was glad Bellamy was with her.

 

“Roar.” Bellamy snorted. “Get it? As in the Roaring 20s? I imagine that wasn’t what it was called in the actual 20s, but that’s what it’s called now.”

 

Clarke nodded and nervously brought her hands up to rub up and down her forearms. It wasn’t cold but she was definitely feeling more anxious about this particular adventure than any of their previous ones.

 

Suddenly, one of Bellamy’s hands was wrapped around her own as he pulled her back toward him where he had stopped on the sidewalk.

 

“You don’t have to go, Clarke.” He said seriously, but gently.

 

He could tell she was nervous, then.

 

“I know.” She responded softly. “But I want to.” She turned to continue her walk.

 

She paused briefly, facing him once more.

 

“Besides.” She stepped closer to him. “You won’t let anything happen to me.” She knew this in her heart, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear him say it. “Would you?”

 

Bellamy’s face turned serious as he stepped in much closer, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

 

“Never. As long as I’m around, you don’t have to worry, Princess.” His thumb brushed lightly over her cheek bone. “You’ll always be my priority.”

 

Her heart was racing much faster than she ever remembered it doing so before.

 

She honestly hadn’t expected an answer like that, and the expression on his face told her that he was one hundred percent serious.

 

As quickly as he was in front of her, he was stepping away, clearing his throat and gesturing ahead of them with a nod of his head.

 

“See that street light?”

 

She looked a little ways down the road to a lone street light and nodded.

 

“That’s our destination.” He considered her for a moment. “Are you ready?”

 

She glanced back at the streetlight. She couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever happened tonight would be the beginning of a rush of events, each more dangerous than the last. This whole trip had felt that way, but now, especially so.

 

 _Was_ she ready?

 

_Don’t wuss out now, Griffin. Suit up and don’t let your man go alone._

 

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

 

He nodded and seemed to hesitate before speaking again like he was nervous to bring up whatever he was going to say.

 

“So, listen. I’ve been thinking.” He paused, looking up at her from under his eyelashes. “There are going to be a lot of shady people in there.” He flicked his head back toward the streetlight. “And this Dante guy is supposed to be pretty intense.”

 

What was he getting at?

 

“I just think it would be good for us to have like - A cover story or something. There will be people who will recognize me, of course, or my name at least. But no one will know who you are. I think we should give you a cover story.”

 

Oh. Well, that made sense. If she was walking in to a den of criminals, she may as well try and fit in a little better. She did _look_ the part after all.

 

“Okay. That’s a good idea.” She agreed with him.

 

He still looked nervous.

 

“I think it would be in your best interest, and potentially keep undesirables away if..” He hesitated again. “If we just told them that you were my girlfriend and partner. That we were on the same job.”

 

He looked incredibly nervous to see her reaction and she couldn’t figure out why.

 

“You’re right, that will probably get the least amount of questions.”

 

He opened his mouth to respond, possibly defend himself, when he closed it just as quickly.

 

“Wait. You agree?”

 

She snorted. “Yes, I agree. Why were you so nervous I would be upset? I’m a reasonable person, Bellamy.”

 

He chuckled lightly.

 

“I know you are. I just… never know how you’re going to react sometimes.”

 

Clarke considered that for a moment and decided that he had reason to think that way. But in this case, he _was_ right. A cover story - That cover story - Was their best bet.

 

_Sure, let’s forget the fact that you’re now going to have to act couple-y with the guy you’ve been pining over for the past three years._

 

“Right. Let’s get going then.” He said with confidence, reaching forward to grab her hand and pulling her along with him.

 

She let him take her hand and her heart started racing again. Just like in her dreams, his hands were big and warm, swallowing hers whole and her mind immediately began filling with images of them running along her body.

 

She snapped out of her musings when she realized that they had reached the streetlight. Bellamy turned them to the right and only then did she see the big metal doors off the road down a small set of stairs.

 

She followed him down, her hand squeezing his for support.

 

He took one last look at her before he reached up and knocked three times, the metal clanging in the still night air.

 

A piece of the door slid back roughly and Clarke and Bellamy were suddenly looking at a pair of eyes through a hole in the metal.

 

“Isadora Duncan.” Bellamy said deeply, his eyes never leaving the ones watching them curiously.

 

Quickly, the metal peep hole slid shut and the door on the right opened quietly, allowing them access to the room beyond.

 

Bellamy went in first, dragging her behind him, his hand firmly encompassing hers.

 

The bar was dark, lit only by some very old light fixtures and candles. Obviously, they were going for the whole smoky, dimly-lit room vibe. In spite of the darkness, Clarke couldn’t help but see past the vast amount of people to the structure itself. It was apparent that this club had been around for a very long time, the architecture itself untouched since the building’s creation. All around the room were inset benches with tables, mostly inside the wall, giving the people sitting there utmost privacy. There were round tables sprinkled throughout the room, circled around a stage where jazz musicians were playing a quiet, soft standard as a few couples danced directly in front of the band.

 

The bar was the most grand part of the room, which she guessed made sense considering speakeasies came to be in retaliation of the ban of alcohol. It was a large bar with an intricate mirror design on the backsplash. Colorful bottles of what she could only assume was any brand of alcohol you could name lined the shelves behind the bar all the way to the ceiling.

 

It was sad really because had this place not been crawling with suspicious looking criminals, she could see herself frequenting a place like this on her weekends.

 

“Stay close.” Bellamy said, leaning down to whisper directly in her ear.

 

She nodded and only paused for a moment before gluing herself to his side. In any other occasion, she wouldn’t dare be so bold, but they were supposed to be a couple, right? She was just playing a part.

 

_Right._

 

Bellamy, for his part, didn’t blink an eyelash. He simply raised his arm and wrapped it around her, pulling her even closer to him. She almost laughed when she looked up and saw him glaring around the room, trying to intimidate people away from them.

 

He led them over to one of the bench booths embedded into the wall and motioned for her to sit before he did.

 

Once they were situated, she almost jumped at the feeling of his arm sliding in behind her shoulders against the wall behind them.

 

He leaned over, his nose trailing from the top of her head to her ear.

 

“We have to get Wallace’s attention.”

 

He continued his journey, his mouth trailing lightly over her skin until he reached the exposed collarbone of her dress.

 

She fidgeted only slightly in her seat, bringing her knees closer together as she cleared her throat.

 

“And um.” She was terribly distracted by the feeling of the hand that was wrapped around her that had now started tracing circles on her shoulder. “How do you suggest we do that?”

 

He looked up at that, his hand coming up to flag down a passing server.

 

“Yes sir, what can I get for you?” The man asked.

 

“I’ll have a bottle of your most expensive scotch, please.” He pulled out his credit card and handed it to the server.

 

The man seemed extremely pleased by Bellamy’s request and nodded before quickly scurrying off to fulfill the order.

 

“I think you just paid for that man’s rent.” She chuckled lightly under her breath.

 

“Come.” Bellamy said, pulling her out of the booth. “Dance with me.”

 

She gulped down a nervous laugh as he pulled her further out of the booth and led her to the makeshift dance floor in front of the stage.

 

“B- Bellamy.” She was suddenly spinning in his arms as he pressed her front to his own, his right hand coming to a rest on her lower back and his left hand grabbed her own hand as he swayed them slowly back and forth. “I don’t really dance.”

 

Bellamy chuckled darkly and she could feel it all the way to her core, his chest rising a falling against her own.

 

“I think you just haven’t found the right partner, Princess.”

 

She looked up at him then, his grinning face so sure of his statement.

 

“And you think you _are_ the right partner, Blake?”

 

His grin morphed into a small smile then as leaned down and whispered in her ear.

 

“I think I _could_ be.”

 

Did he mean what she thought he meant?

 

_Of course he does, you idiot._

 

Before she could respond, their server approached them.

 

“Pardon me, sir, I just wanted to let you know that your bottle is waiting for you at your table.”

 

Bellamy grinned at the man.

 

“Excellent. Thank you very much.”

 

The man nodded and walked away as Bellamy turned back to Clarke.

 

“Ready to put on a show?”

 

She looked at him confusedly before he was leading her back to their booth. Once they were seated again, he poured them both a glass of the scotch and Clarke had to admit that it tasted damn good. Much better than the cheap shit she usually paid for.

 

She froze when she felt Bellamy’s hand come up to rest on top of her thigh where her legs were crossed.

 

He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

 

“Relax, Princess. We’re madly in love, remember?”

 

She smiled weakly at him, leaning into the touch this time.

 

She didn’t bother telling him that her freezing up wasn’t because she didn’t _like_ his touch. It was because he had surprised her. In fact, if he wanted to touch her some more, she would be amenable to suggestion.

 

_Maybe you should just tell him then, so you can be on that man every night._

 

Ignoring her inner monologue, she took another sip of her drink.

 

“Bellamy Blake.” A voice startled her from the comfort of Bellamy’s embrace and she looked up to see an older gentleman standing over their table. “I knew I had heard that name before.”

 

She looked over at Bellamy who was looking at the man with interest.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

The older gentleman laughed lightly, pulling out a chair and taking a very _refined_ seat across from them. He moved with a sort of grace that Clarke could only dream of.

 

“Let’s cut to the chase, Bellamy. I’m well aware of who you are, of course, and I can only presume that someone with your reputation has found their way to my bar to request an audience. So.” He paused for dramatics, his hands coming up to sweep down his body in presentation. “Here I am.”

 

Bellamy was considering his options carefully, looking at the man with interest. His hands had yet to move from their position on Clarke, however, and if anything, they had only become more possessive since the man (Who Clarke presumed was Dante Wallace) sat down. His left hand now wrapped entirely around her thigh and his right hand was resting lightly on the base of her neck.

 

Apparently, Dante had noticed Bellamy’s actions as well, as he turned to Clarke then, taking her in.

 

“Now. Who might this be?” He looked interestedly at her.

 

Bellamy’s grip on her thigh tightened imperceptibly and Clarke felt very protected in that moment.

 

“This is my girlfriend, Clarke.” He introduced her and she nodded her head in the man’s direction.

 

Dante chuckled.

 

“Do you often bring your dalliances on your international adventures, Bellamy?”

 

Bellamy’s face morphed into a scowl, as did her own.

 

“I assure you, she is more than capable of handling herself.”

 

“And I’m not his dalliance.”

 

Damn it. She should’ve just stayed silent, but this man really grated on her nerves. He carried a giant sign on his forehead that screamed “Patriarchal Asshole” and she wanted to rip it down and punch him in the face.

 

Wallace’s eyebrow rose in interest.

 

“Interesting. Feisty, isn’t she?”

 

Clarke almost jumped over the table to attack the man who kept referring to her as if she weren’t actually there, but Bellamy’s hand squeezed yet again and she was suddenly reminded of the fact that they needed information from this fucker.

 

So instead, she settled down, leaning in to Bellamy once more as she bit down all the words she wanted to say.

 

“Indeed. You’re right, I am here to see you.” Bellamy was obviously trying to keep his cool as well. His voice still had its usual charm, but she knew that his admission to cutting to the chase was a tell-tale sign that he was fast running out of patience as well.

 

“Ah, there we go. Ready to talk, are we?” Dante smiled, and brought his hands together in a clasp. “Excellent. Now, how can I help you Mr. Blake? I’m not sure that I have anything to offer someone of your proclivities.”

 

Bellamy chuckled and shifted slightly, moving his right hand to rest on Clarke’ shoulder.

 

“Yes, I imagine it is very unusual for you to get visits from people who have non-criminal interests.”

 

Dante’s eyes tightened only slightly at the accusation.

 

“But I’m here because I need information of the criminal variety. If you know who I am then you know I can be trusted not to sell you out unless you fuck me over. And you also know that I can probably help you out in some way as well.”

 

Dante seemed to consider this statement, eyeing Bellamy from his seat across the table.

 

“I’m looking for a painting.” Bellamy continued. “One that has been underground for quite some time. If you can help me find it, I would be happy to try and help you in some way in return.”

 

The older man leaned back in his seat, his hands still clasped together. Bellamy was giving him a moment to consider his proposal. He stared for a beat longer before he responded.

 

“I do find myself in need of some information of my own.” Dante began and Clarke’s heart clenched in her chest.

 

He was going to help them?

 

“What painting is it you are looking for exactly?” The man asked carefully.

 

Bellamy looked at Clarke briefly from the corner of his eye.

 

“A Vermeer. _The Concert._ ” Bellamy said bluntly.

 

Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly and his cheshire grin was back.

 

“Ah yes. I do believe I might be of some assistance in that matter. However, you will find that I require payment upfront.”

 

Clarke’s hopes were dashed in a second. Of course, this snake-like man would want Bellamy’s help first. Nevermind that the added delay on _their_ end would mean the painting getting further away from them.

 

Bellamy seemed to be thinking the same thing as his body tensed.

 

“And what payment would that be?”

 

Apparently he didn’t see a way around it, however.

 

Dante seemed to consider his words carefully.

 

“I’ve heard that you have an extensive network of people who supply you with information.” He began. “As do I.” He smirked at that. “However, the person I am trying to find knows the ins and outs of my network and can skillfully avoid anyone and anywhere that would lead me to his location.”

 

Interesting. Who would know Dante Wallace so well that they could avoid his detection?

 

“So you want me to find this person for you?” Bellamy asked suspiciously. It did seem rather easy. “You’re not going to like - Kill them or anything, are you?”

 

At that, Dante laughed lightly. Even his laugh was delicate and airy.

 

“Oh no, I assure you, I have no interest in killing my own son.”

 

Bellamy and Clarke both sat up straighter at that comment, trying desperately to hide their surprise.

 

“Yes, yes, my son. He is a slippery one when he needs to be and I’m afraid that his little game of hide and seek has begun to fall flat on my sense of humor.” He paused at that, sighing deeply and brushing unseeable lint from his trousers. “Find my son, Mr. Blake.” He stared Bellamy down. “Find my son and I will help you find your painting.”

  


* * *

  
  


“Do you remember that day at the coffee shop? A few months after you found my mom’s painting?” Clarke asked as she and Bellamy walked back toward their hotel.

 

Bellamy looked at her then. They hadn’t really spoken much since they left Roar, both in deep thought.

 

He cleared his throat and nodded.

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

Clarke bit down on her lip as she pondered her next statement.

 

“I had been so stressed out for weeks, wondering where I was going to come up with an acquisition for that exhibit, and suddenly, there you were. Randomly at the same coffee shop as me and ready and willing to help me find one without provocation.” She didn’t know what she was implying with that statement but Bellamy didn’t acknowledge it, whatever it was. “It was almost like fate.”

 

Bellamy chuckled, scuffing his feet against the sidewalk as they walked.

 

“Do you believe in fate, Princess?”

 

She thought about that for a second. Did she? How else would you explain Bellamy’s presence that day? Showing up exactly when she needed him?

 

And that wasn’t the only time either. In the three years since they had met, he always seemed to show up out of nowhere exactly when she required his assistance.

 

It was _exactly_ like fate.

 

“I’m not sure.” She responded honestly. “Sometimes, it would be nice to believe in something like that. That no matter what happened in life, it would all work out the way it was supposed to in the end because fate would always intervene.”

 

Bellamy seemed to consider her words for a moment before he responded.

 

“I think that fate is a nice concept, sure.” He paused. “But I also think it’s an excuse people use to not make decisions or take actions for themselves. Think about it. Why make your own move when you believe that fate will do it for you?”

 

She exhaled slowly at that. He had a point.

 

“I think that you should make your own fate. Know what you want and go after it.”

 

She looked up to find him staring down at her, as serious as he could be.

 

“Maybe you’re right.” She whispered.

 

Suddenly her phone rang, breaking the spell that had fallen over them. She looked down to see the name Finn flash across her screen.

 

“I- I should take this.” She said, holding up her phone.

 

Bellamy nodded and walked away, giving her some privacy as he pulled out his own phone.

 

“Finn.” She said, answering the phone a little breathlessly, her heart still racing from Bellamy’s words.

 

“Hey cupcake, how’s Ireland?”

 

She cringed at both the nickname and the fact that he thought she was still in Ireland. I mean, it wasn’t like she hadn’t _tried_ to call him.

 

“Um, we’re actually in France now.” She said hesitantly. She didn’t really want to get into a deep conversation with the guy she was about to break up with.

 

“Oh! Well that’s fun!” He said, but he seemed distracted, as Clarke heard a woman’s laughter in the background.

 

“Yeah, but listen Finn, we really need to talk.”

 

The laughter increased and she heard Finn say something like “Oh shit!” and a loud noise let her know that he had likely dropped his phone.

 

He laughed as he came back on.

 

“Yeah, you said so. But hey, can I call you back?” The laughter was even louder now.

 

“Actually, I really needed to-” A sudden dial tone let her know that he had hung up without waiting to hear her response.

 

She stared down at the phone in shock.

 

She wasn’t even upset by the fact that he was obviously distracted by another woman, she just really had wanted to get this over with.

 

“Well, how’d it go?” Bellamy asked as he walked back toward her, shoving his phone in his pocket as he walked.

 

“Uh. I actually didn’t get to say very much.” She mumbled angrily.

 

“Oh. Well, that stinks.” He said, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“Yeah.” She said in return.

 

Honestly? She had tried at least talking to Finn about it, and if he was going to be distracted and not allow her to say what she needed to say, then she was just going to end it the only other way she could. She wasn’t about to stay tethered to a guy just because he wasn’t willing to listen to her.

 

She opened her text messages and found his name quickly.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _Well, since you were busy, I guess I will just type this out. I’m really glad that we had the time that we did these past few weeks, but I think it’s best if we go our separate ways. Being apart has made me realize that our relationship isn’t as strong as I thought it was and I really just want to be alone right now._

 

There. That wasn’t so bad. She pressed “Send” before she could change her mind and looked up to find Bellamy staring down at her again.

 

“There. Done. What next?” She asked, gesturing to his phone.

 

He snapped out of his gaze, looking down at the pocket where his phone lay.

 

“Oh. Right. Well my source at the FBI is willing to help us track down Wallace’s son, but they want to meet in person. Something about how their team is only in the next country over and they haven’t seen me in ages.”

 

Clarke’s stomach clenched painfully at the idea. Did she really want to meet this person Bellamy loved so much in the flesh?

 

“That sounds nice.” She smiled a fake smile and did her best not to seem like her heart was ripping itself into shreds.

 

 

* * *

  
  


The next morning, she and Bellamy made their way to a cafe around the corner from their hotel and ducked inside quickly.

 

Bellamy was looking around the room, obviously searching for his contact. When he found them, he smiled brightly and pulled Clarke by the hand to the back corner of the cafe.

 

When she realized who they were walking toward, Clarke’s stomach felt even worse.

 

She was quite possibly the most beautiful girl she had ever seen in person.

 

Dark hair and a beautiful smile, she immediately rose to greet Bellamy with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

 

When she looked over his shoulder and saw Clarke, her face instantly changed to a smirk that seemed… very familiar to Clarke.

 

“Well, well. If it isn’t the famous Ms. Griffin.”

 

Bellamy elbowed the woman in the stomach and suddenly Clarke was very confused. Why did everyone Bellamy know seem to know exactly who she was? Especially this woman? The woman Bellamy loved?

 

“Yeah, yeah.” She reached out her hand for Clarke to shake. “Name’s Octavia. Nice to meet you.”

 

Suddenly, Clarke felt like she could breathe again, her heart making the connections that her brain hadn’t quite caught up with just yet.

 

Bellamy sighed exasperatedly.

 

“Clarke, I’d like you to meet my sister, Octavia.” He smiled brightly at the woman. “My contact with the FBI. ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duh duh duhhhhhhhn. 
> 
> I know some people liked the idea of Octavia being a secret but now that’s she’s been introduced, she and her “team” become a larger part of the story. 
> 
> Besides we all know Octavia is one of the biggest Bellarke shippers out there. 
> 
> ALSO. Anyone piecing together their past just yet? I will drop more tidbits in flashback form here and there for you to feast on!
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments. Hope everyone had a happy holiday!


	8. The Follow-Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update Day! Yay!
> 
> This week's chapter picks up the pace a little bit and adds in Octavia and her team.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**The Follow-Up**

 

 

**_Two and a half years ago_ **

 

_ She couldn’t believe it. _

 

_ Honestly, she wouldn’t have believed it had she not been looking at the damn thing with her own eyes. _

 

_ When Bellamy had said he could be of assistance, she was more than a little skeptical. Sure, he worked for an insurance company and would have access to collectors and museums that she could only dream of, but she never could have imagined… _

 

_ This. _

 

_ “Clarke, I must say, this is quite the acquisition for our humble little museum. When we asked you to find a centerpiece, we never expected this!” Jackson was saying beside her and she could only mumble her humble thanks as he continued to praise her efforts. _

 

_ She really didn’t deserve it. Bellamy did. _

 

_ I mean, come. On. _

 

**_Three Graces_ ** _? Who did he even know in France and why on Earth would they loan one of the most recognizable Raphael paintings of all time to a little museum in Chicago? _

 

_ What did Bellamy have to do to make this happen? _

 

_ “It really is amazing, Clarke.” She heard Lincoln say softly from her other side and she turned to look up at his genuine smile. _

 

_ Lincoln might be her superior as a curator, but he never made her feel that way. He was always kind and offered support to her when she needed it. _

 

_ “Thanks, Lincoln.” She said with a smile. _

 

_ Even she had to admit - _

 

_ Blake did good. _

 

_ The question was, how was she going to make it up to him? _

  
  


\---

 

“Clarke, I’d like you to meet my sister, Octavia.” He smiled brightly at the woman. “My contact with the FBI.”

 

Clarke definitely heard what Bellamy said and knew what it meant, but she was struggling to come to terms with the  _ actual  _ meaning behind it.

 

This woman, this beautiful woman that she had been unfairly jealous of for the past week because of her close bond with Bellamy was…

 

His sister?

 

She cringed.

 

Looking at her now, Clarke could see the unmistakable resemblance, and she kicked herself for not noticing the familial traits as soon as she walked through the door.

 

Most irritatingly, she also seemed to carry the Blake family smarminess that Bellamy seemed to possess, as she was now looking at Clarke as if she knew every single thought running through her head plus everything she had ever thought before.

 

Shaking herself out of her stupor to put on a brave face for the knowing look from Octavia, she reached her hand out for the other woman to shake.

 

“Octavia, it’s nice to meet you.” She smiled and internally agonized over how fakely bright it probably was. “I’m Clarke.”

 

Octavia snorted but shook her hand nonetheless.

 

“Oh, I know all about you, trust me.”

 

When Clarke looked at her with confusion, Octavia exchanged a brief glance with her brother before supplying her own fake smile.

 

“FBI, remember? FBI Agent, Governor’s daughter… I know a little about a lot of politicians and their families.”

 

She ran that explanation through her mind and decided that, okay, it made some sense, she supposed.

 

“Well, it really is nice to meet you. Bellamy’s told me a lot about you.” She smiled a little more warmly this time and Octavia turned her knowing look to her brother then.

 

Bellamy was almost blushing as he cleared his throat.

 

“Always the best big brother, bragging about me to everyone he meets.” She turned back to Clarke then. “Never quite being honest, as it were. He thinks it would put me in danger.”

 

Bellamy spoke at that. 

 

“It would, O, and you know it. I don’t exactly surround myself with the epitome of the up and up.”

 

Octavia grinned at Clarke.

 

“So, what does that make you, Griffin? The worst sort of riff-raff?”

 

Clarke grinned back. She liked this woman.

 

Bellamy huffed out an annoyed breath.

 

“Of course the two of you would like each other, bonding over my so-called protective instinct.”

 

Octavia whipped her head around.

 

“Wouldn’t you  _ prefer _ that the two of us get along, big brother?” Bellamy’s return glare was heated. “Besides, it’s not a  _ so-called _ anything. You’re over-protective. Own it. I’m sure Clarke here has grown used to it.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I suppose so. Although, he seems to forget that I’m usually more than capable of handling myself.”

 

Bellamy seemed to be ready to respond to that when Octavia’s grin widened and she answered first.

 

“Oh yes. I  _ really _ like you. Let’s grab breakfast, Griffin.”

 

And that’s how she and Octavia Blake became best friends.

 

They bonded happily for the first hour of breakfast, Bellamy barely getting a word in edgewise, the two of them realizing a kindred spirit in one another.

 

“So I called Bell and he more than happily came to pick me up.” Octavia smiled at her brother, reaching over to ruffle his hair with her hand. “Not before lecturing me on the importance of always making sure that my ride home stayed sober.” She looked back at Clarke with an unamused expression.

 

“That was the second time that had happened, you know.” Bellamy spoke up, defending himself. “And funny enough, I don’t recall it ever happening again after that.” He looked smug as he pointed that out.

 

Octavia laughed. “Yeah, whatever. Maybe I just started calling other people.”

 

Bellamy looked aghast at the very idea that his little sister wouldn’t come to him first so Clarke decided to break the line of conversation

 

“Bell?” Bellamy looked up at that, staring at her in confusion. “You call him Bell?” Clarke couldn’t suppress her smile.

 

Bellamy breathed out an exasperated sigh and Octavia laughed loudly.

 

“Yepp.” She grinned. “Have since birth, pretty much. As you can imagine, ‘Bellamy’ is a little hard for someone learning to speak for the first time to say.”

 

Bellamy looked at his sister fondly.

 

“Well, I think its cute.” Clarke said, her smile soft as she wondered what it would have been like to have a sibling of her own.

 

“Do you now?” Octavia asked and Bellamy coughed.

 

“Alright, O, maybe it’s time we get to the business portion of this conversation.”

 

Octavia gave her brother a look that Clarke couldn’t quite identify before huffing and pulling out her laptop.

 

“Well, let me just begin this whole conversation with this.” She turned to her brother. “I  _ told _ you not to get involved with this. You should’ve ignored that stupid fucking email in the first place and you definitely shouldn’t have brought  _ her _ .” She pointed to Clarke across the table.

 

Clarke started to speak up to defend her involvement but Bellamy spoke first.

 

“I told you, I didn’t  _ want  _ to bring Clarke, she  _ insisted _ I did! Showed up at the fucking airport at that, ticket already purchased and said she was going to go whether I helped or not, so I figured maybe it was the safer option if she were with me and not out wandering the streets of London alone for the first time!”

 

When Bellamy finished his run-on sentence, Octavia’s eyes widened and she turned to Clarke quickly.

 

“Did you really?” Octavia asked.

 

Clarke couldn’t exactly decide on whether or not Octavia sounded excited or anxious so she just answered honestly.

 

“Yes, of course. The email came to  _ both _ of us. I wasn’t about to let him go find it on his own and then come home and  _ mansplain _ to me and the hot news anchor on channel five how he found it.”

 

Clarke berated herself at that slip of the tongue as Octavia’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

 

“Well,  _ well _ .” She said, leaning back in her chair. “Well, that  _ does _ change things, now doesn’t it?” She looked to Bellamy then. “Alright, well, don’t let her die, dickhead. And you.” She pointed at Clarke who’s eyes widened at being addressed. “If my brother comes out of this whole fucking situation less than scathed it will be a miracle, but I swear to God, if this mess ends and I have to pick up the fucking pieces, I  _ will _ find you and it  _ won’t _ be pleasant.”

 

Clarke’s sudden confusion was apparent on her face. What the hell was she talking about?

 

“Huh?” Clarke asked.

 

“Exactly.” Octavia answered before she opened her laptop and continued her report.

 

“So. Now that you’ve gotten yourselves mixed up with the Wallace family, the FBI is more interested in your adventure than usual, Bell.” She clacked away at her keyboard. “They’ve been trying to nail Dante for  _ years _ and have never been close enough to do any damage. I know you make deals with these criminals about turning them in, but this asshole is more than your average asshole. If you would be willing to supply us with some information on your journey, we would be willing to help you locate his kid.”

 

Bellamy seemed to ponder that for a moment.

 

Clarke could tell what Octavia meant. 

 

People like Emori and Murphy she could understand keeping separate from his sister and their dealings. They were low on the rung of criminal activity. And Bellamy even told her that Emori usually made a special effort to only fence stuff taken from rich assholes, which Clarke didn’t want to admit was more than a little hilarious. Besides, the information Bellamy got from his network did a lot of good at recovering the missing pieces anyways.

 

But Dante. That man was one hundred percent, Grade A asshole. She had almost taken him out, herself.

 

“Fine. I will give you some information. But it can’t get out, O. I need my usual contacts to trust me.”

 

Octavia nodded as she continued her typing, occasionally stopping to click on something.

 

“Fine. Now. The kid.” She flipped her laptop around, propping it so that Bellamy and Clarke could see her screen. Bellamy moved slightly around the table so that he was closer to Clarke under the guise of seeing better, but as his thigh touched hers underneath the tabletop, she felt the breath hitch in her throat.

 

“His name is Cage. Cage Wallace.” On the screen Clarke could see the cocky face of the man in question. She supposed he would be handsome if his face didn’t  _ scream _ douchebag. He must have gotten that from his father. “Real problem for Dante as of late, as he seems to be wanting to go off on his own. Start his own hustle, so to speak. Only, the kid’s an idiot and Dante ends up having to clean up his messes to prevent anything happening to both himself  _ and _ Cage.”

 

Clarke looked at the man’s picture, pondering. Dante had an air of danger to him. She could only imagine Cage would be much the same. However, if he really was as a reckless as Octavia said he was, that made him even more dangerous than his father.

 

“He’s done a good job at hiding from his old man, though. It’s not easy to stay under Dante’s radar, but I guess it’s not so hard when you know where his radar  _ is. _ However, I am more than a little satisfied to say that he hasn’t managed to evade our organization.” As she said this, her smirk was back, firmly in place.

 

“Well, I guess that works for our benefit then.” Bellamy said with a smile. “So. Where is the black sheep?”

 

Octavia sighed. “Not far, actually. I guess the best way to hide is to stay close by. He’s in Troyes, which isn’t that far if you take public transit.”

 

Bellamy looked over at Clarke for a beat before turning back to his sister.

 

“Not too bad. Will you be joining us?”

 

Octavia snorted. “Naturally. I told you, the agency has it bad for the Wallace family. It won’t just be me either. They want the whole team brought in for this.”

 

Bellamy smiled.

 

Octavia caught his reaction and glared. “You absolutely will not distract the wonder twins, understood? They have a job to do.”

 

Bellamy shrugged and glanced toward Clarke’s look of confusion.

 

“She’s referring to her analyst duo. They’re best friends. You’ll understand once you meet them. Who else?” Bellamy asks, turning his attention to Octavia once more.

 

“Raven, of course. Wouldn’t go anywhere without her. New guy too, name’s Shaw. Don’t take it from me, but I’m pretty sure those two are fucking on the down low.”

 

Clarke almost spat out the sip she had just taken of her drink.

 

Octavia looked at her with a mischievous smile. 

 

“You’re not  _ shy, _ are you Griffin?”

 

Clarke swallowed down her surprise. “No, not shy. Just wasn’t expecting that, I guess.”

 

Oh she definitely wasn’t  _ shy. _ If anything, all she could think about lately was fucking.

 

_ Yeah. Fucking Bellamy. _

 

She smiled. “So that’s it? The analysts and the other two? Raven and Shaw?”

 

Octavia attempted to hide a smile behind her cup that she brought to her lips.

 

“There’s one more. He’s our stateside agent. He’ll be joining us for this particular mission.”

 

At that, Bellamy’s head whipped around to look at Octavia, his face almost nervous.

 

“He is?” His voice had dropped down an octave and Clarke couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous all of a sudden.

 

Octavia turned her amused stare to Clarke. “Bellaym has an issue with this one apparently, but I think you’ll like him, Clarke.” She looked at Bellamy. “Won’t she, Bell?”

 

Bellamy was full out glaring at his sister now.

 

“I’m just not sure it’s necessary to call him in at the moment. Isn’t he needed there?”

 

Octavia took another sip of her drink.

 

“Actually, things are going pretty swimmingly there. He was delighted to finally join us on this case.”

 

Bellamy sat back in his seat, brooding openly.

 

Clarke couldn’t understand what was wrong but Octavia gave her a reassuring look.

 

“Don’t worry, Clarke. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

 

And as she looked at Bellamy’s sister across the table, she was left with the exact same feeling of ease that she got when she was around Bellamy. Sure, she had just met her, but it felt like they had known each other forever.

 

One thing was for certain, no matter where their journey took them next, she and Bellamy were better off having Octavia along for the ride.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


They wrapped up their conversation with Octavia and decided to take a few hours before they met back up to travel to Troyes. Clarke was a little sad that were already leaving Paris. Now that she had traveled to all the places they had been, she knew she wouldn’t be able to just stick around Chicago all the time. She would be back. 

 

And when she did come back, she would take her time and see all of these beautiful places at her own pace.

 

“Come on, let’s go, I have a surprise for you.” Bellamy smiled as he grabbed her hand and pulled her up to the car that had just stopped at the curb.

 

Clarke’s heart pounded as she looked down at where their hands were connected. His was warmed and engulfed her own and she never wanted to let go, but when he moved to open the door for her, he let her hand drop.

 

She sighed as she scooted into the back seat and turned her body toward his as he got in.

 

“So where are we going?” She asked when he closed the door. 

 

He leaned against the seat and turned his head toward her, his smile taking over his face.

 

“I think you’re going to like it, Princess.”

 

She was having more and more trouble separating her feelings for Bellamy from their mission. After what happened, she had promised herself that she and Bellamy would just be acquaintances. He was another branch on her business network tree. 

 

But looking at him now, his handsome face lit up by his beautiful smile and she knew that she was done for. 

 

How had she ever thought she would be able to leave her feelings out of this equation?

 

_ Because you’re an idiot. But there’s no turning back now.  _

 

She begrudgingly agreed with her innermost thoughts. There wasn’t a way to back out now. They were too deep into this for her to leave. She couldn’t abandon him in such a dangerous situation. 

 

She would just have to put her heart on hold. Once she and Bellamy were separated again, she in Chicago and him… wherever it is he was… she could move on again. Find another Finn, maybe. 

 

One that actually seemed to care about her traveling abroad unexpectedly. 

 

_ Bellamy cared.  _

 

She mentally admonished herself. 

 

Bellamy was still looking at her, his happy grin morphing into a look of confusion and contemplation. 

 

“What’s on your mind?” He came right out and asked. 

 

She froze. She couldn’t tell him why was actually on her mind. 

 

“Just thinking about where it is you’re taking me. You’re not going to secretly deliver me to Cage in exchange for the painting and help dispose of my body, are you?”

 

His grin was back now. 

 

“Not only does that whole theory make absolutely zero sense, but you know I wouldn’t leave you with a dangerous mad man.” He reaches over and placed his hand over hers. “Maybe said madman’s father but definitely not the madman.”

 

She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away from his, looking out the window instead. 

 

“Now where are we going, Blake?”

 

She could hear him chuckle behind her. 

 

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there. I just thought you might want to see one more thing before we left town.” 

 

She turned quickly to face him. 

 

“You think you know me so well, huh?”

 

Bellamy smirked. 

 

“I don’t think. I know, Princess.”

 

Those words shouldn’t have had the effect on her that they did, but there was something so attractive in his confidence. In knowing that there was someone who really did know her well enough to make that statement. 

 

In knowing that he was probably right. 

 

In the three years she had known Bellamy, he had the inexplicable talent of showing up right when needed him and knowing exactly what she needed. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he stalked her or something, but she knew for sure that he was always traveling. 

 

She leaned back against the window then, a smile on her face when she recalled the first time Bellamy came to save the day. 

 

\----

 

_ “He what?” Her mother’s incredulous voice came through the speaker of the phone that Clarke had pressed against her ear as she walked into the grocery store, looking for the sign that indicated the dairy aisle.  _

 

_ “He found me a painting. And not just a painting mom, a very famous painting that I still have no idea how he was able to get loaned to us.” _

 

_ She walked briskly to the refrigerated aisle, seeing the milk that she needed from a distance.  _

 

_ “That was very sweet of him! You have to thank him somehow, Clarke.” _

 

_ Clarke rolled her eyes before she realized that her mom couldn’t see her reaction.  _

 

_ “I plan to mom, but there’s just one problem. I don’t know how to get in touch with him.” She huffed as she grabbed her milk, letting the door slam close behind her. “I mean, it’s not very polite of him, is it? Just find a world famous painting to send as a loan to my museum in  _ **_my name_ ** _ and then not send a note? No call? Nothing? I haven’t even seen him since that day in the coffee shop, offering his help. What if I didn’t need his help anymore, huh? How does he always seem to know everything? So presumptuous.” _

 

_ She sat the milk down a little tougher than she intended to and the lady at the cash register kind of looked shocked at her apparent frustration. _

 

_ “Clarke, honey, you’re being irrational. Bellamy helped you, sweetie. You’ll have the opportunity to thank him. I’m not sure why you’re so angry.” _

 

_ Why was she so angry? _

 

_ She wasn’t entirely sure, but she was.  _

 

_ Bellamy and his stupid ability to see right through her to what she needed. They had only known each other for a year, for goodness sake.  _

 

_ She sighed.  _

 

_ “You’re right, mom. I’ll figure out a way to get in touch with him.” She smiled sadly at the lady at the cash register as she swiped her card. “I just wish I knew what his motivation was. We’ve only ever met a few times over the past year. Why would he go to such lengths to help me out?” _

 

_ Her mom’s laughter caused her stomach to clench in uncertainty.  _

 

_ “Oh, honey. I wouldn’t worry about that so much.” Clarke could hear a deep voice on the other end of the line. “Listen, we will have to talk about this later, one of my advisors is here. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” _

 

_ “That’s fine, I just got back to my car anyways.” _

 

_ She unlocked the door, placing her milk in the back seat, and sitting down in the driver's seat.  _

 

_ “And don’t worry about the Bellamy thing, honey. It will all work out. Love you.” _

 

_ The silence on the other end was telling and Clarke sighed, putting her phone in the cradle between her front two seats.  _

__

_ \---- _

 

“We’re here.” Bellamy's deep voice brought her back to the present. 

 

She leaned over to look out his window and gasped. 

 

The Louvre. He had brought her to the Louvre. 

 

She smiled widely, opening his door and crawling over his lap to exit the vehicle. 

 

She couldn’t even be bothered about how she had left the car because she was so excited to see the museum. 

 

Bellamy laughed as he got out of the car, his arm coming up to rest around her shoulders. 

 

“Excited, Princess?” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. 

 

“Shut up, ass.” She couldn’t even contain her smile in an effort to make the words sound serious as he guided them toward the entrance. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


She had never been as enamoured as she was when she was walking around the Louvre. 

 

And not just with the beautiful art, but with Bellamy as well.

 

He wasn’t like the people she was used to being around when she was appreciating art. While he wasn’t as familiar with the pieces and artists themselves, his knowledge of history was so vast that he made her experience even more meaningful. She knew the technical aspects of all the pieces, but he was able to offer her the history behind them. What was happening in the world at the time it was created, in the country the artist lived.

 

And as she enjoyed Vermeer’s  _ The Lacemaker _ and he went on and on about the Dutch Golden Age, she knew that what she had realized in Ireland was even more true.

 

She could get used to it. Being with Bellamy. Traveling with Bellamy, enjoying all the art of the world with him beside her, explaining the historical meaning of each piece. 

 

Somewhere, deep down, she knew that once this adventure was over and she moved on with her life, she would never find another Bellamy. 

 

“We have just enough time to relax, maybe take a nap before we head off to Troyes.” Bellamy was saying as they walked into the lobby of the hotel. “We need to catch the 4:00. That should put us in Troyes before 6, which is when we are supposed to meet up with Octavia and her crew.”

 

She nodded, following him to the elevator and leaning against the back wall as they ascended.

 

“Are you happy you came?” She heard Bellamy ask beside her, his voice low and serious.

 

She turned her head only to find him leaning against the corner of the elevator car, staring at her.

 

“Happy I came?” She asked, her voice tired and ready to rest.

 

“With me. To Europe.” He elaborated.

 

Nothing in his gaze told her that he was anything less than serious. He really wanted to know. No teasing. His expression was almost vulnerable.

 

“Of course I am, Bellamy.” She said quietly. 

 

He continued to look at her, quietly, until the doors of the elevator opened and the ding sounded announcing their arrival.

 

She swallowed down her questions and turned to exit, Bellamy following her all the way to their room.

 

She had just swiped the key card to open the door when Bellamy’s hand came to rest on hers and she paused. He stepped in closer, his front against her back before his hand came up to rest on her hip, turning her in his arms to lean against the door.

 

His face was so close to her own and she had no choice but to look up into his eyes.

 

“Clarke.” He said, his voice even deeper now. “I-”

 

Clarke’s phone rang, the loud ringtone breaking through the moment and Bellamy stepped back away from her, his eyes drifting to the end of the hallway.

 

She took a deep breath before she took her phone out of her pocket, answering it without looking.

 

“Hello.” She answer, her voice a little broken, emotion from what almost happened clouding her tone.

 

“Clarke! I just got your message! What do you mean you want to be alone? I don’t understand, I thought everything was going great!”

 

Clarke sighed deeply, leaning her head against the door behind her. Should’ve just looked at who was calling.

 

“Finn, it’s over, okay? Don’t make this more dramatic than it needs to be. Be honest, you haven’t even really noticed that I’m gone. That’s not a sign of a good relationship.”

 

_ You haven’t noticed he’s gone either. Not with Bellamy around. _

 

At that thought, she looked up to find Bellamy gazing at her once more, leaning against the wall across the hall.

 

“That’s not true! I’ve thought of nothing else!”

 

She rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. It had been a whole  _ day _ since she sent him that text message. A boyfriend who actually missed her would have immediately responded. 

 

_ Bellamy would’ve jumped on a fucking plane. _

 

“Finn. I won’t justify that with a response. But it’s over. When I get home, I will send your stuff to you.”

 

“This is total bullshit, Clarke, and you know it. This is coming completely from out of nowhere.”

 

She physically reacted to that statement, pulling back to stare at her phone in shock.

 

“I’m sorry, what? What did you just say to me?”

 

“I said -” He started to say something more but Clarke didn’t hear the rest because Bellamy had taken the phone from her and pressed it up against his ear instead.

 

“Say that again, asshole, I dare you.”

 

She heard Finn say something through the phone, but Bellamy obviously didn’t care to listen to him anymore.

 

“You no longer have anything to say to her. It’s over. She was polite about it, but I won’t be. You will not call her again and you will not see her again, and if I hear differently, you  _ will _ answer to me.” He pulled the phone from his ear and tapped the screen to end the call and cutting off what sounded like an angry response from Finn.

 

He looked up at her then, a guilty look maring his features.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I should have let you handle it.”

 

She wanted to be upset with him. He was right, he should’ve just let her handle it, but the fact that he jumped to her defense made _ her  _ want to jump  _ him _ in the middle of the hallway.

 

For everyone to see.

 

“It’s okay.” She whispered instead. “Maybe he needed to hear your voice.” She smiled conspiratedly. “Now he will think we’re sleeping together.”

 

Bellamy smiled softly at her as well.

 

“You just gonna let him think that’s true, then?” He asked.

 

She pretended to think about it for a second before responding.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.” She grinned.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Once they were in the hotel room, Clarke went to her bed and Bellamy went to his, lounging back against the pillows with his eyes closed.

 

He told her he was going to take a nap and Clarke envied him. She was way too keyed up to sleep, so she retrieved her laptop from her bag and decided to check her email and peruse Twitter.

 

Once she loaded her email, she noticed that there was one from Jackson letting everyone know that Lincoln would be out for a few days so that meant that all curator inquiries should go to him.

 

She had another one from Harper telling her about an acquisition that had just received and how much she was going to love it. She also included a PS that reminded her that she hadn’t heard from her in a few days and while she knew that she and Bellamy were way too caught up in each other to worry about her sanity, she would appreciate a text at least.

 

She giggled at that and vowed to write her in a little bit.

 

The next email in her queue made her pause.

 

**azgnum2@gmail.com**

 

Her eyes widened as she realized where she recognized that email address. The same one who sent her the message about  _ The Concert. _

 

“Bellamy!” She hissed loudly at the sleeping man across from her.

 

“Hm?” He made a sleepy noise of acknowledgement.

 

“Wake up, damn it. We got another email.”

 

It took a few seconds for what she said to register but then he sat up quickly and opened his eyes looking her way.

 

“Wait, what? Another email? From the same person?” His voice was still rough with sleep and Clarke had to physically contain her reaction to its timbre.

 

“Yes!” She said excitedly, gesturing for him to join her on top of her bed.

 

He climbed over to her side of the room and leaned back against the headboard, his shoulder touching hers.

 

“What does it say?” He asked.

 

She shrugged. “I haven’t opened it yet. I thought I would open it with you.”

 

He looked over at her at that, a smile slowly forming.

 

She blushed. “We’re a team, right?” She said quietly.

 

One side of his mouth quirked up and he reached over, tucking her hair behind her ear.

 

“Yeah, Princess, we are.”

 

She cleared her throat and turned back to her computer, studiously avoiding his gaze as she opened the new email.

  
  


**Sender: azgnum2@gmail.com**

**Subject: Pay Attention**

 

**Get under the radar. You’re not exactly subtle.**

 

**PS Cage isn’t what you think.**

 

That was it. 

 

Clarke’s brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“What does he mean ‘Cage isn’t what you think?’”

 

She turned to look at Bellamy who was staring at the screen in concentration. 

 

“I’m not sure, but we need to tell Octavia.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


They had just made it to the train in time and were seated comfortably in the corner when Bellamy called Octavia.

 

“Yeah, that’s all it said.”

 

She could hear Octavia’s mumbled words from where she was seated beside Bellamy, so she leaned her head back and listened to Bellamy’s end of things.

 

“No, Octavia. Why would I have any idea what he was talking about? You know much more about Cage than I do and it’s not like we sit around braiding each other’s hair and talking about this whole thing.”

 

She giggled at his exasperation and he turned to glance at her playfully.

 

“We will. We’ll meet at the rendezvous spot as planned.” He waited while his sister spoke more. “Okay, sounds good. About an hour and forty five minutes.”

 

He sighed deeply, his eyes drifting to the ceiling.

 

“Love you too. Bye.”

 

He tapped the screen to end the call and Clarke watched his eyes close.

 

“Tired?” She asked and he opened them to look at her.

 

“Just a little.” He admitted with a shrug.

 

“You can always go home, if you want.” She said hesitantly. 

 

That was secretly a fear of her’s. That he would decide that this painting wasn’t worth it and want to end their mini adventure. 

 

He smiled slightly in her direction.

 

“Nah, Princess. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

 

She sighed happily and laid her head on the back of her seat.

 

“I’m going to try and nap now.”

 

She heard Bellamy chuckle. 

 

“Didn’t you just tell me that you couldn’t believe I was able to sleep?”

 

She opened her eyes to look at him.

 

“Yeah, well. Maybe looking at your face makes me want to close my eyes.”

 

He laughed out loud and several people turned to stare at the sudden outburst.

 

“Touche, Princess.” He huffed. “Fine, sleep. Don’t worry I’ll protect you from passersby with less than savory interests.” He eyed the older gentleman in the corner who was all but passed out in his seat and the middle aged woman further down their row who was reading the latest James Patterson novel.

 

“Good to know.” She yawned, closing her eyes perchance to dream.

  
  


_ It had been three days since Bellamy’s mysterious gift had arrived and Jackson had yet to stop singing her praises.  _

 

_ She was growing a little worried that she wouldn’t ever be able to live up to this amazing acquisition. _

 

_ Wells had taken her out to dinner the night before to celebrate her first big win on the job and she had woken up to see their picture in the morning paper. _

 

_ She and Wells had occasionally been photographed together over the years, media outlets often assuming that the two of them were an item. _

 

_ No matter how many times they insisted they weren’t. _

 

_ Even still, it was never a surprise to look in the Gossip section only to see their photographs plastered on the pages. _

 

_ “And here I thought my help would win you over.” _

 

_ She jumped, startled, and looked up to the doorway of her office where Bellamy was standing, leaning against the wood and smirking down at her. _

 

_ “Bellamy” She breathed out. “You scared me.” _

 

_ He laughed and entered in the room, sitting down in one of the two chairs across from her. _

 

_ “So sorry, Princess, I’ll make sure to have someone announce my arrival next time.” _

 

_ She glared weakly at him. “I would say something snarky, but I’m glad you’re here, actually.” _

 

_ He sat up straighter at that. _

 

_ “Oh?” He asked. _

 

_ She nodded her head. “Yes, I’ve been trying to find a way to contact you in order thank you for your help.” _

 

_ He grinned, leaning forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. _

 

_ “It was my pleasure, of course. I promised you I would.” _

 

_ She smiled slightly. “Yes, you did, but you could’ve backed out. We don’t really know each other all that well, after all.” _

 

_ “Well, now you know. I’m a man of my word.” He sat up in his chair, his arms coming to the rests on either side of him, his hands clasped together.  _

 

_ Her smile widened.  _

 

_ “I see that now. I hope we will be able to work together again soon?” She phrased it specifically as a question, giving him the opportunity to back out if he wanted, but hoping he wouldn’t. _

 

_ Bellamy leaned in once more, his eyes boring into hers. _

 

_ “I told you, Princess. I’m exactly what you need.” _

 

_ She flushed under his gaze. _

 

_ “Maybe so. Either way, I would like the opportunity to thank you. Would you like to go for coffee after I get off work?” _

 

_ He smiled a genuinely please smile then. “Absolutely.” _

 

\----

 

_ Clarke took him to one of her favorite spots, Tiny Cafe, and they sat on one of the little tables outside overlooking the Chicago River. _

 

_ “So, do I even want to know what you had to promise to do in order to get them to lend us ‘Three Graces?’” She asked, one eyebrow raised. _

 

_ Bellamy chuckled. “Probably not, but know it wasn’t anything illegal.” _

 

_ She smiled at his joke, but couldn’t help but worry about what he had to promise to make it happen.  _

 

_ Who he had to promise it to. _

 

_ “Well, I really do appreciate it. My boss won’t stop talking about it.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Actually, I was just thinking earlier that I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to top this.” She laughed lightly.  _

 

_ Bellamy leaned over the table, his knee brushing hers, as his hand came up to rest on hers.  _

 

_ “Well, you know, I have plenty more promises I can make where that one came from.” _

 

_ She looked at their touching hands, his warmth radiating through her whole arm and then finally looked into his eyes. _

 

_ “I couldn’t ask that of you.” She whispered, and he barely heard her over the sounds of people passing by. _

 

_ “You wouldn’t have to, Princess.” He said lowly, his eyes searching hers imploringly. _

 

\----

 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” The same deep voice reverberated through her head, and she opened her eyes to find that she had somehow shifted in her seat, her head now resting on his shoulder.

 

She cringed as she knew that couldn’t have been comfortable for him.

 

“Sorry about that.” She said, her voice scratchy and unattractive.

 

“Don’t worry about it. Ready to go?” He asked, standing.

 

She wondered at his sudden mood change but stood to join him nonetheless.

 

“Sure, let’s go.”

 

As she followed him out the sliding door, she couldn’t help but wonder at what had him in such a sour mood.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“They’re just ahead.” Bellamy said and Clarke rushed to keep up with him. 

 

Ever since they exited the train, he had been in a... _ mood. _

 

Not necessarily a  _ bad  _ mood. He wasn’t being rude or anything, but he was definitely off.

 

“Bellamy.” She said, out of breath from her rushing. “Is everything okay?”

 

He looked down at her, a forced smile on his face.

 

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” She kept walking, even as he faltered in his steps.

 

“There’s really nothing wrong, I promise.” He said as he caught up with her and she tried her best to keep her frustration at bay.

 

“Okay then, I believe you. I trust you to tell me the truth.”

 

He walked silently after that, brooding, and she knew she had successfully called him out on his bullshit.

 

“You talk in your sleep, you know.” Bellamy said quietly.

 

She whipped her head around to stare at him.

 

“ _ What? _ ” 

 

She did not.

 

Did she?

 

Oh  _ God. _

 

“Just thought you should know.” Bellamy said, smirking.

 

Clarke contemplated this revelation, knowing full well she was never going to be able to sleep in the same room as Bellamy again.

 

As they rounded the corner, a black van came into view at the end of the block and Bellamy pointed it to him.

 

“There they are.” They walked more quickly until they reached the van’s back door before Bellamy knocked a funny pattern on the metal.

 

The door opened suddenly to a very satisfied looking Octavia.

 

“Big brother, Big Brother’s girlfriend.” He nodded at each of them and Clarke’s jaw dropped to the floor.

 

Octavia snorted and gestured for them to enter the van. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Grif, Bellamy told me about your cover story for Wallace.”

 

Bellamy was glaring at his sister once more who held her hands up in an “I’m innocent” gesture.

 

Clarke nodded, glancing at the very angry-looking Bellamy as she climbed into the van.

 

There were people in there. 

 

Lots of them.

 

Two of them were huddled in the corner going over maps, whispering to each other in concentration. One was a woman, a very beautiful one, with darker skin and a long ponytail. The other was a man with equally dark skin and a closely shaved head. They seemed pretty cozy.

 

_ What is it with Bellamy and his tendency to only associate himself with beautiful people? _

 

She saw two more people surrounded by computer equipment along one whole side of the van, obviously set up for the mission, but she could see that one monitor had an episode of The Big Bang Theory pulled up and the two of them were throwing popcorn in each other’s mouths while they giggled at the show.

 

Up front, she could see the back of a head in the driver’s seat, a man by the look of it, but he was on the phone.

 

When and and Bellamy entered, the two guys by the computers looked up and immediately started toward Bellamy.

 

“Our fearless leader hath returned!” One of them said as they pounced, each bro-hugging Bellamy in turn.

 

“I’m going to need the two of you to go back to your station now.” Octavia’s voice sounded behind them.

 

The two enthusiastic agents held their hands out to Clarke.

 

“Monty.” The one on the left declared.

 

“Jasper.” The other one said excitedly.

 

“Nice to meet you both.” She said shyly, shaking each of their hands.

 

By the time those two had sat down, the two in the corner looked up from their work on the map and nodded to Bellamy and Clarke.

 

“I’m Raven.” The woman said. “And this is Shaw.” She nodded her head at the man she was working with.

 

_ Ah, so those are the two that are together then. _

 

The man up front had just put down his phone and when he turned around, Clarke couldn’t contain her gasp.

 

“Lincoln!” 

 

The man in questioned smiled slightly at his coworker and nodded in acknowledgement.

 

“Clarke.”

 

She couldn’t believe her eyes.

 

But wait, did this mean…

 

“Wait. Lincoln, you work for the FBI?” 

 

He nodded again, coming up besides Octavia who was smirking up at him.

 

“Yeah, in the stolen art division, with these guys.” He gestured to the people around the room. “The museum is my cover. Helps me have an ‘in’ in the industry. I’m usually the one sent in to get insider information for our missions.”

 

All the pieces started to fall together and suddenly it made sense. Lincoln was never one to shy away from time off and he never seemed to have very much drive to move beyond his position at the Ark, always praising Clarke and lifting her up instead. 

 

He didn’t really care to move up, so he supported her.

 

She smiled.

 

“This suddenly makes so much sense, I could die.”

 

Lincoln actually smiled at that, with teeth, and she couldn’t remember having seen it before.

 

“Yeah, yeah, he’s awesome. Great. Wonderful. Now can we get moving? Our window is closing.”

 

Lincoln nodded, moving back to the front of the van and Bellamy turned to Clarke.

 

“Last chance, sure you don’t want to back out?”

 

She looked up at him, her eyes serious.

 

“I’m positive. I would never let you go alone.”

 

He was looking down at her, just as serious and contemplative, when Octavia broke the silence.

 

“Adorable. You two give me a toothache. Can we go now?”

 

Bellamy turned to glare at his sister.

 

“Fine. Let’s go.” He took his seat and Clarke took hers.

 

No turning back now.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


“Can you hear me?” Clarke heard Octavia’s voice through the earpiece they had given her.

 

“Of course we can, Octavia. I imagine FBI-grade technology is a step above your local spy shop gear.”

 

Clarke snorted at Bellamy’s response and looked up and down the street they were on. 

 

No one was around. They were alone at night in the middle of an unknown city and Clarke was trying very hard not to worry.

 

“Don’t be an asshole, Bellamy, or I’ll send feedback through the speakers.”

 

Clarke cringed at the thought and wordlessly begged Bellamy to keep his snarky comments to himself, just this once.

 

“Fine, let’s go.” He reached down, grabbing Clarke’s hand and gripping it tightly, his fingers interlacing with her own.

 

Her heart rate picked up, as usual and she mentally reminded herself that this was all part of the plan.

 

They walked two blocks before they reached the house.

 

It was an older house, two stories, with beautiful double front doors.

 

Clarke kept repeating their story over and over in her head.

 

They were there to respond to a sale ad. If someone other than Cage answered the door, they were to ask if Mr. White was home and then play off the situation as a wrong address. If Cage  _ did _ answer the door, they went with the same story. 

 

This whole charade was simply to make sure that they had the right address. When they confirmed Cage was here, the FBI would take over with surveillance.

 

As they approached the doors, Bellamy raised his hand to ring the doorbell when he stopped.

 

“O.” He whispered. “The door is open.”

 

“Bellamy Blake, do  _ not  _ go in that house. I repeat, if you go in that house, I will kill you myself.”

 

“Oops” he whispered as he ‘accidentally’ pushed the door the rest of the way open.

 

“Bellamy, I swear to God,  _ don’t. _ ”

 

But Bellamy was apparently done listening to Octavia because he kept walking into the house, looking from right to left in the dark foyer.

 

Did Cage just accidentally not pull the door all the way shut before he left?

 

Surely a well-known criminal wouldn’t do that.

 

This whole thing screamed  _ suspicious _ , but she trusted Bellamy. Maybe more than she should.

 

Bellamy squeezed her hand to get her attention and nodded to a door in the corner of the room. It was open and there was a faint light glowing from within.

 

He pulled her further into the room toward the open door and pressed his finger to his lips as he leaned in to listen.

 

“BELLAMY! Get out of there, NOW!” Octavia was practically screaming now.

 

Hearing nothing in the room, he peeked inside and his fingers tightened once more before all but pulling her inside the room.

 

Clarke couldn’t help the gasp that left her lips.

 

It was  _ The Concert. _

 

There. 

 

_ Just hanging on the wall in this house. _

 

She didn’t even try and contain herself as she ran to it, so close but so far away.

 

They did it. 

 

They had finally found the painting.

 

In that moment, she was simultaneously elated and crushed.

 

It was over.

 

He would leave now.

 

He would leave and she would have to find a way to move past this  _ whatever the hell it was  _ again.

 

She paused. Something in the corner of the canvas caught her eye.

 

“Um, Bellamy.” She whispered. “This painting.” She paused again, narrowing her eyes. “It’s -”

 

The sudden sound of a loud click filled the room, and before she could comprehend what was happening, she was pressed behind Bellamy, his whole body covering hers.

 

She peeked around his arm and whimpered.

 

There was Cage Wallace himself, a gun in his hand, aiming right for Bellamy’s chest.

 

“Ah, Mr. Blake.” Cage said menacingly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnnn!
> 
> Annnnnd the mysterious emailer is back!
> 
> Any new guesses now that we're further into the story??
> 
> Also, what about the flashbacks? Where are they headed?
> 
> And the LINCOLN reveal! Anyone see that coming??
> 
> Anywho, leave me all your thoughts and guesses about the story - I LOVE reading them!
> 
> If not here, find me on Twitter @MallidayWrites and tell me there!
> 
> See you next week!
> 
> -Mally


	9. Cat and Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo world!
> 
> Last week's chapter got so many comments! It was so amazing! I love reading all of your guesses, truly. It makes this so much more fun.
> 
> Some of you are very close!
> 
> So this chapter will introduce a few more characters to the mix AND an unexpected excerpt that I think you will enjoy.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Cat and Mouse**

 

She could feel Bellamy’s back rise and fall with even, steady breaths as he pressed himself in front of her, his back to her chest.

 

Looking at the man across the room, Clarke thought he looked a little… off-kilter. Like something wasn’t quite right.

 

The gun he was pointing toward the two of them was steady, however, and she was so scared, she found herself struggling to breathe.

 

Bellamy didn’t seem to have that problem, as his arm came around to her side, his hand grasping her hip and pressing her closer to him, his whole body shielding her from any potential harm.

 

Clarke whimpered and pressed herself into a ball behind him, her head tucked in and her chin pushing into her chest.

 

In spite of her fear, she knew that no matter what, Bellamy would do everything in his power to protect her.

 

He always had.

 

\----

 

**_Two Years Ago_ **

 

_ Her heels clacked against the marble floor as she walked down the center of the exhibit, people who were enjoying the art turned briefly in distraction to smile timidly in her direction. _

 

_ Her mother had told her that she needed to work on her people skills if she wanted to be successful. _

 

_ She  _ **_would_ ** _ say that, being a politician and all.  _

 

_ Theoretically, Clarke knew she was right. How could she ever acquire the works she needed to without schmoozing the right people and upping the charm. _

 

_ It just hadn’t come naturally to her like it did to some people.  _

 

_ She  _ **_was_ ** _ slowly developing a network of people, however. After Bellamy’s theatrics six months ago with the Renaissance exhibit, Clarke had gained respect with a few museums and collectors in the area. _

 

_ Still, it wasn’t easy.  _

 

_ Lincoln was nice, of course, and patient. The other curator, McCreary, was an ass and a half. She had heard a rumor that he was a ladder climber anyways and he would be out of this place sooner rather than later. _

 

_ Clarke couldn’t even be happy about that because she knew that once the second curator position opened, she would be in the prime position to apply for it. _

 

_ But that meant she had even more pressure to prove herself because of it. _

 

_ She sighed, considering this distant (Maybe not so distant) future as she rounded the corner to Harper’s desk at the front. _

 

_ Harper glanced up when she heard the sound of Clarke’s heels and smirked when she saw the grimace on her face. _

 

_ “You can’t already be stressed about the next exhibit?” Harper asked incredulously. “Clarke. Seriously, we  _ **_just_ ** _ sent the Raphael back to France. Take at least a week to chill or something.” The other girl flipped a page in the book she was reading. “Besides, it’s not like people are jumping to visit anymore now that the exhibit is gone.” _

 

_ Clarke sighed in exasperation. _

 

_ “Exactly! Don’t you see? Attendance has dropped pretty dramatically and now everyone is clambering for  _ **_something_ ** _ to help ease the loss of the Raphael. Even if it is just something small.”  _

 

_ She sighed and plopped down in the chair next to Harper, hidden from view of the entrance. _

 

_ Harper looked over at her coworker in sympathy. _

 

_ “You’ll find something, I know it.” _

 

_ Clarke smiled slightly in her direction. _

 

_ “I wish I had your optimism.” _

 

_ The two of them shared a smile then before they were interrupted by the phone ringing on the front desk. _

 

_ “Ark Chicago.” Harper answered in her practiced manner. _

 

_ Her eyes flew to Clarke a second later before she put the person on hold. _

 

_ “You have a call on line two.” Harper said primly. _

 

_ Clarke’s brows knitted together in confusion.  _

 

_ “My mother?” _

 

_ Usually her mom would call her personal phone, never the museum phone. So did everyone else she knew personally, actually. _

 

_ “Nope. Not sure who it was. They just said that they were looking for Ms. Clarke Griffin.” _

 

_ Clarke’s head tilted even further in her confusion before she sighed and lifted herself from her chair. _

 

_ “Alright then, I guess I’ll go grab that. Talk to you later.” _

 

_ “Sounds good. Make a good impression!” Harper shouted after her. _

 

_ Before Clarke could contemplate what she meant by that, Clarke was bustling through the back hallway toward her office where her own phone was waiting. She sat down with a huff in her office chair, staring at it for a second, gathering her wits, before finally lifting the receiver from its cradle. _

 

_ “This is Clarke Griffin.” She spoke calmly into the phone, much more calmly than she had expected from herself at that moment. _

 

_ “Hello, Ms. Griffin! I hope you don’t mind my asking for  _ **_you_ ** _ directly but I was given your name, you see.”  _

 

_ The voice on the other end of the line was a woman’s voice, one that Clarke didn’t recognize at all. _

 

_ Nevertheless, “Of course it’s fine, ma’m, how may I help you?” _

 

_ The woman sighed. _

 

_ “Well, I happen to be an appreciator of fine art, a collector actually. Only, I find that one of my pieces might be beyond my means of protection.” The woman paused, sniffling. “So, a friend of mine told me that the museum might be willing to house it for me?” _

 

_ Clarke couldn’t believe it. A patron was calling her  _ **_directly_ ** _ to find a home for her painting? Who the hell gave this woman her name? If you looked up their museum she was the third one listed, under Lincoln and McCreary, who were the main curators. _

 

_ “Um,” She hesitated only a second in her confusion. “Absolutely, mam. Should it fit into one of our current exhibits, we would love to give it a home.” _

 

_ The woman chuckled.  _

 

_ “Oh, I think you’ll find it will fit just fine.” _

 

_ The woman was right of course. _

 

_ The painting arrived three days later and Clarke couldn’t believe what she was seeing. _

 

_ It was the  _ **_Isleworth Mona Lisa_ ** _. _

 

_ McCreary had instantly touted it as a fake, not knowing the history of the painting and Clarke had enjoyed schooling him on the fact that this work was actually Da Vinci’s  _ **_first_ ** _ attempt at the  _ **_Mona Lisa_ ** _ , but one he had given to the husband of Lisa before he created a second for his own collection. _

 

_ It was  _ **_such_ ** _ an addition to their collection that, once again, Clarke was commended by Jackson and the painting was given its own corner of the museum with promotion. _

 

_ After a week had passed, she had been so busy in the whirlwind of setup of this magnificent artwork, that she hadn’t again paused to consider who it came from. _

 

_ But one afternoon, after she came back from promoting the painting to a local newspaper reporter, Clarke paused in the doorway of her office. _

 

_ There, on her desk, was a tulip. A beautiful tulip that was a color she had never seen before. It was almost orange, but through a combination of many other colors. It was laying across a stack of books that sat on top of her desk. _

 

_ When she stepped closer, she realized that there was a little note tied to the stem of the tulip with a piece of ribbon. _

 

_ She picked the flower up delicately, terrified she was going to do  _ **_something_ ** _ to ruin the beautiful bloom. _

  
  


**_A promise is a promise._ **

  
  


_ That was all it said. _

 

_ Stared at the flower thoughtfully, in awe of its beauty and of the thoughtfulness of the person who sent it. _

 

_ And while the message wasn’t signed, her heart whispered a name. _

 

**_Bellamy._ **

  
  


\----

  
  


“Now, Blake, here’s what we have. You have broken into my house. Breaking and entering is a crime in this country too, you see.” He pointed the gun back and forth between Bellamy and the figure of Clarke that he couldn’t see very well behind Bellamy’s body. “I would hate for you and your girlfriend here to end up in jail.” He chuckled. 

 

Clarke’s heart clenched in her chest in fear.  _ Jail? _ What the fuck? He was the fucking criminal, not them.

 

“While that is a less-than-desired outcome, I don’t think you want the police to come into your home and see a stolen painting either.”

 

She silently willed Bellamy to not goad the unstable criminal with the gun, her hand clutching his shirt, squeezing tightly in warning.

 

The man across from them only chuckled at Bellamy’s words of warning.

 

“You’ll find that its hard to have someone arrested when their family owns half the police department.”

 

Clarke’s swallowed hard, realizing what this meant for them.

 

“Besides, I already have a buyer for that particular piece and they will be by to pick it up later tomorrow.” His slimy voice made Clarke want to punch him just as hard as she imagined punching his father. “That painting is going to make me a pretty penny too.”

 

_ Don’t do it. Don’t say anything. Just stay quiet. Don’t speak. _

 

“So you don’t think your buyer will want to know that it’s not real, then?” She spoke up from her place behind Bellamy and his shoulders tensed at the sound.

 

“What are you talking about, Blondie?”

 

She almost rolled her eyes at the nickname. Very original.

 

“I’m saying.” She stepped slightly to the side, her body coming out from behind Bellamy’s and he instinctively reached to cover her once more before she shook her head and placed her hand on his upper shoulder. “That this painting is a  _ fake. _ Not real. Never been touched by Vermeer a day in its life.”

 

She saw the brief moment of confusion flash across his face before he schooled his features into his former mean mug yet again.

 

“Making shit up to distract me won’t work.” He snarled, pointing his gun at Bellamy once more. “Now, Blake, I suggest that you listen to what I say if you and your girlfriend want to make it out of this alive.”

 

Clarke was practically vibrating in anger, her jaw clenched.

 

“What do you want, Cage” Bellamy’s voice was gruff and unafraid and Clarke instantly felt safer in that moment.

 

“My father. He has a stash of contraband in the city and I need it.” His hand came up to wipe at his nose, almost instinctively, and Clarke knew in that moment that he didn’t need the drugs to sell.

 

_ Great. So this asshole is an idiot  _ **_and_ ** _ he’s going through withdrawal? We’re going to die. _

 

We’re not going to die, she told herself.

 

Maybe if she believed it, it would come true.

 

“How could I possibly help with that? I’m not a burglar, I’m a historian.”

 

Cage snorted.

 

“I’m aware. You’re not exactly the stealthiest of burglars. But I know you  _ know _ people. I want the whole warehouse emptied. I want it all.”

 

Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly, the door next to Cage that they had entered in the back of the room busted open and in stormed Octavia and her team, guns raised and jackets on.

 

“Hands up, Wallace, drop the gun.”

 

The startled man turned and his hand must have accidentally reacted and pulled the trigger because they heard the sound of it firing ricochet off the walls of the room.

 

The breath was knocked out of her as she found herself on the floor, a body on top of her.

 

Looking up, she saw the eyes of Bellamy staring back at her, worry and panic crossing his features.

 

“Clarke.” He breathed out, his hands coming up and sliding along her body, undoubtedly checking for gunshot wounds, but she couldn’t help her body’s instinctive reaction to his touch. “Clarke, are you okay? Where did it go?”

 

He was still feeling along her muscles, searching, and Clarke regretted that she was going to have to put his worries at ease.

 

“Not in  _ me _ , Bellamy. I’m fine.” She choked out and Bellamy’s hand to a second to register her words before he stopped.

 

His eyes found hers once more, his breath evening out, and his hands coming to rest on the floor on either side of her body.

 

She couldn’t quite decipher the look he was giving her as he looked down at her, but his right hand left the floor an drifted up to her face, brushing away the hair that had flown in front of her eyes when she hit the floor.

 

She watched him swallow, his throat bobbing with the movement and when she looked back up, his gaze had drifted lower as well.

 

“As touching as this is, it appears you’re both just  _ fine,  _ thank God.” Octavia’s voice drifted to the two of them on the floor.

 

Clarke’s instinct was to pop right up and fidget, having been caught doing… she wasn’t sure what.

 

However, Bellamy remained on top of her, his weight keeping her right where she was. Just the very thought made her core ache and her legs start to drift apart, seeking to give him a better position.

 

He was looking up at his sister in exasperation.

 

“Yes, we’re fine, O, thanks for worrying.” 

 

His amused expression did nothing to ease the fire in Octavia’s eyes.

 

“I can’t  _ believe _ you came in. I told you  _ not  _ to, Bellamy! What if you had died? Not only would I have lost my brother, but it would have been my fault!” She looked like she wanted to cry, but was good at keeping it in. “Maybe we shouldn’t work together anymore.”

 

At that, Bellamy jumped up off of Clarke, hurrying to his sister as his hands came up to rest on her arms.

 

“No. O. It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.” 

 

_ There’s that word again. _

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen, but it turned out okay, right? And you got the intel you needed to put Cage away. Or at least enough to hopefully encourage him to supply info on his father.”

 

Octavia looked away from her brother, obviously distracted by looking at his puppy dog face.

 

_ Yepp. Know that feeling. _

 

“I don’t know, Bell. I know you’re my big brother and all but keeping people safe is  _ literally _ my job.” She turned to glare at him sternly then.

 

“I know, O, and I’m sorry. And you were right, it was a setup. I should’ve listened.”

 

Clarke held her breath, waiting for Octavia’s response.

 

Finally, the other girl sighed loudly and hit Bellamy hard in the upper arm.

 

“Damn straight you should have, ass. And in this case it wasn’t even just  _ you _ . It was Clarke too.” She gestured to Clarke who was now sitting up on the floor.

 

Bellamy turned around to Clarke before he walked over to where she was sitting and held out a hand, helping her up off the ground.

 

“I’m sorry, Princess.” He breathed out. “Octavia’s right. I should’ve listened. You could’ve been killed.” His hands came to a rest on her waist, pulling her in closer. “I would never have forgiven myself if you had been hurt.”

 

Clarke lowered her eyes to the floor before bringing them back to his face.

 

“Bellamy.” She said softly, grabbing his left hand and holding it in her own. “I knew what I was getting into this after I put myself on a plane and forced you to bring me along. We saw someone  _ die _ before all that happened, remember? I came, knowing things like this could happen.”

 

She looked into his eyes, willing him to understand that he was forgiven. That she would never hold something like that against him.

 

His eyes were so dark and full of promise that she almost didn’t even hear Octavia.

 

“And that makes you an idiot, Griffin.” Octavia stepped up to the two of them. “And the Governor of Illinois’ daughter. So I need you not to die, please. It would look very bad for my reputation.”

 

Clarke chuckled as Bellamy’s head swiveled to glare at his sister.

 

Octavia held her hands up in surrender.

 

“I’m just saying. She needs to live. Can’t we agree on that?”

 

Bellamy turned back to look at Clarke, a small smile forming.

 

“Yeah. We can agree on that.”

 

Clarke chuckled.

 

“I can agree on that one too. Now that we’ve all agreed I must stay alive, can we figure out our next move, please?”

 

Octavia nodded.

 

“Right. We need to reassemble. The team is taking care of getting Cage into interrogation. You two head to the hotel and rest. We will meet you there tomorrow. We can conference in the bar downstairs.”

 

At that, she walked away, leaving Bellamy and Clarke behind her.

 

“She’s definitely a force to be reckoned with.” Clarke mused as she walked away.

 

“Yeah. She is.” Bellamy said, squeezing Clarke’s hand that he was still holding. “A lot like someone else I know.”

 

She swung her head around to see him smirking down at her before he dropped his grip and walked away, following his sister out the door.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


That night, Clarke was tossing and turning in her bed, unable to sleep. She told Bellamy that she was fine, and she was. But apparently being in a life or death situation with a gun pointed at you was enough to kick your adrenaline into such high gear that your body refused to sleep. It felt like she was vibrating after drinking way too much caffeine.

 

She sighed deeply before turning over to stare at her ceiling yet  _ again. _

 

This was ridiculous. She wasn’t going to get any sleep. Not like this.

 

She pushed back her covers and tiptoed past Bellamy’s bed to the balcony.

 

They were staying at some other little boutique hotel in Troyes. They didn’t want to venture too far because Octavia and her crew were still in town, interrogating Cage at an FBI safehold nearby.

 

It was chilly, but not so cold that she felt uncomfortable outside in her pajama shorts and long sleeved shirt. She had brought a blanket out with her just in case, so she settled on one of the chairs outside and covered herself up, enjoying the feeling of breathing in the fresh night air.

 

She found herself deep in thought, her mind wandering elsewhere.

 

To the man behind her, fast asleep.

 

She barely knew him, really. She didn’t know his favorite color or where he even called his permanent home.

 

And yet, they knew so much about one another. And they had been through so much together.

  
  


\---

  
  


_ “You have a call waiting on line one.” Harper said as she poked her head around the corner with a smirk. _

 

_ Clarke glared at her balefully before picking up the phone. _

 

_ “Clarke Griffin speaking.” _

 

_ She was right.  _

 

_ It was another patron calling to seek housing for their artwork at the museum. _

 

_ “You know,” Harper started as Clarke hung up the phone. She had plopped down in the chair across from her to nose in on her private conversation. “This makes painting number.. What? Three?” _

 

_ Clarke continued to glare as she reached for her computer mouse to look up the database she needed. _

 

_ “I’m just saying. I think he’s trying to get your attention.” _

 

_ Clarke huffed out a breath. _

 

_ “We don’t even know that your little theory is right, mind you.” Clarke looked away from her friend to the computer screen in front of her. _

 

_ Harper snorted. _

 

_ “Please. I guarantee you that after you do a little digging, you will find that this painting, much like the last two, were recently recovered after having been stolen from the patrons’ homes.” _

 

_ Clarke bit down on her bottom lip, still studiously ignoring Harper’s words. _

 

_ “And you know I’m right. In a couple of days you’ll get another tulip, inexplicably mind you, and then another month or so from now, you’ll get another call.” _

 

_ It had been two months since the Da Vinci arrived and this made the third painting that Clarke had acquired in her name for the museum due to some mysterious patron (That she had never heard of) calling and asking for her because they got her name from a  _ **_friend._ **

 

_ A friend. _

 

_ And then there were the tulips. _

 

_ She had received two now, each beautiful and unique.  _

 

_ The second had come with a note as well. _

  
  


**_That one was a much bigger promise than the last. You owe me. ;)_ **

  
  


_ She knew, deep down, it was Bellamy. She had known that before Harper had even made the connection between the paintings and them being recently recovered. _

 

_ “I looked up the meaning of a tulip the other day, by the way.” Harper interrupted her musings. _

 

_ She glanced back at her friend before rolling her eyes and returning her attention to the screen. _

 

_ “Do I even want to know?” She said dryly. _

 

_ When Harper didn’t respond, she looked back at her friend who was wearing a smirk. _

 

_ “Oh, it was interesting alright.” Harper stood swiftly. “But. I will leave that for you. If you want to know what it means, you can look it up. I can’t do all of the work in this relationship.” _

 

_ And with that, she left the room, Clarke’s mouth hanging open after her. _

  
  


\---

  
  


The sound of the patio door opening cause Clarke to jump in her seat, bundling the blanket up around her further.

 

“Easy, Princess.” Bellamy’s voice was rough and sleepy-sounding. “It’s just me.”

 

He smiled down at her and Clarke swore she had trouble breathing around him.

 

“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, anyways?” Bellamy asked, sitting down in the chair across from her. “I woke up and your bed was empty. I-” He paused. “I thought for a second that my nightmares had become a reality.”

 

She looked at him then, her eyes taking in his worried expression.

 

“What nightmares?” She asked quietly, willing him to answer.

 

Bellamy sighed. “Just wasn’t sleeping well. Stress dreams about what happened tonight.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It could’ve ended so differently, Princess.”

 

She bit down on her lip and took him in, all in his sleepy glory.

 

He was actually wearing a t-shirt to bed, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he always slept with a shirt or if he was just doing that for her benefit. Because he thought it was polite.

 

She really should tell him it wouldn’t bother her.

 

At all.

 

“Maybe you should head back to the states.”

 

Her eyes which had drifted down to his chest, imagining all sorts of sordid things instantly snapped backed up to his.

 

“I’m sorry.” She said. “What?”

 

Bellamy fidgeted nervously in his seat.

 

“I just think this is becoming too dangerous. Possibly the most dangerous assignment I’ve ever had” He paused, looking at her straight in the eye. “I was serious earlier. I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you.”

 

She almost reacted angrily, which was her instinct, but she saw that he was being sincere. 

 

“I would never leave you here alone, Bellamy.” She said firmly, her voice holding no room for argument.

 

He looked over the railing of the balcony, considering the city beyond.

 

“This isn’t just about me anymore, Clarke. This painting… it’s not worth you getting hurt.” He said, his eyes still on the view beyond, refusing to look her way.

 

She pondered momentarily, choosing her next words carefully.

 

“Bellamy.” His eyes reluctantly returned to hers. “What’s your favorite color?”

 

He looked startled by the question, obviously not expecting that to be what she wanted to say.

 

“My- Favorite Color?” He asked hesitantly, unsure of her intent.

 

“Yes, your favorite color.” She smiled softly, showing him without words that she genuinely wanted the answer.

 

“Blue.” He said, his voice dropping lower. “What’s yours, Princess?”

 

She grinned. “Yellow.”

 

And they stayed that way for another hour, asking one another questions. Anything, everything they could think of.

 

Clarke learned so much about him in that time. It was crazy, the amount of things she didn’t know about him considering their history together.

 

She learned that he had a Bachelor’s in History, minor in Sociology from Duke University and Master’s in History from Wake Forest University, and that he’d taken this job to help pay for Octavia’s degree, putting his PHD on hold. That he’d always wanted to go back to school and finish it off, to be a professor, since Octavia had graduated three and a half years ago, but that he had found himself staying in his position.

 

“Why don’t you?” She asked. “Go back? Be a professor?”

 

He seemed to consider that for a second before he eyed her up a down.

 

“You don’t think that’s a little too… on-the-nose?” He questioned.

 

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked, confused.

 

“A professor with a history of artifact recovery?”

 

Clarke just stared. 

 

“Indiana Jones?”

 

She cringed. 

 

“Are you serious?” He asked lowly. “You’ve really never seen Indiana Jones?”

 

She rolled her eyes. 

 

“No but I DO know what it is. I know just enough to fake it in conversation but I had no idea he was a professor.”

 

Bellamy just continued to stare. 

 

And that’s how they got onto the subject of movies and pop culture staples. By the end of the hour, they had created a list of movies that either of them had never seen that the other considered vital to film culture.

 

“You know, we have this list now.” Bellamy started, typing the last of the movies mentioned into his phone. “Does this mean we are going to work on it  _ together? _ ”

 

She blushed under his gaze, her eyes moving to the surface of the table between the two of them.

 

“Let’s see if I even still want to see your face after all of this is over.” She said, her mouth twisting into a smirk.

 

“Oh, I think you will, Princess.” Bellamy said, his voice dropping lower. “I can almost guarantee it.”

 

Her eyes met his and she thought that, in that moment, he was probably right.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Soon after that conversation, Bellamy insisted that they go back to sleep to prepare for the next day. Octavia’s team was going to be in the bar downstairs the next morning and hopefully, they would have some answers from Cage.

 

Clarke was actually able to get some sleep, thankfully, her nerves put at ease by her conversation with Bellamy.

 

After they showered and dressed the next morning, they headed downstairs to meet the group. When they arrived, they were seated in the corner of the restaurant, Raven and Shaw smirking at Jasper and Monty who were throwing food in one another’s mouths from across the table. Octavia was deeply immersed in conversation with Lincoln and he was soothing her with a hand on her shoulder.

 

She looked to Bellamy who’s jaw was clenched.

 

“Are Octavia and Lincoln?..” She trailed off, the question unspoken.

 

Bellamy ignored the question and continued his walk to the table.

 

“Big brother!” Octavia greeted, finally having seen them approaching the table. “Good to see the two of you are on time and looking no worse for wear than the last time I saw you.”

 

She smirked, her eyes roaming between the two of them suggestively.

 

“Now, now, sister, let us not get into it first thing. I would like to know what you found out from Cage.” He said tiredly, not taking the bait, pulling Clarke’s chair out for her beside him before dropping down into the seat next to Lincoln.

 

“Well, unfortunately, not much. He’s an idiot, yes, but seems to know better than to give up his dad without further enticement. So that brings us to the next step in our plan.” She paused, looking at Lincoln before looking back at Clarke and Bellamy. “Since the two of you already have an ‘in’ with Dante, we want you to go back to meet with him.”

 

Clarke shivered at the disgust she felt knowing she needed to talk to Dante again.

 

“Just once. You can tell him about Cage, if you want. Tell him you found Cage and the painting and you know it’s a fake. Give him Cage’s last known address and he will probably eventually find out he was taken by the FBI, but as far as he knows, you two have nothing to do with that.”

 

Bellamy was listening intently, but all Clarke could think of was the fact that she was going to have to look this man in the face again and pretend that everything was okay and that she wasn’t secretly plotting different ways for him to come to his untimely end.

 

“We really need to.” Bellamy said, looking at Clarke. “We know that Dante had the  _ real  _ painting. But somehow, Cage ended up with a fake version. We have to find out what happened to the real one, or this whole trip will have been for nothing.”

 

_ Not for nothing. _

 

Her stomach twisted as she thought about what he was saying, and she knew that he was right.

 

“Okay.” She said, nodding at Bellamy and then to Octavia. “We’ll do it.”

 

“Excellent!” Octavia said, clapping her hands together crisply. “Let’s get started on a tech plan. Nerds, assemble.”

 

Jasper and Monty launched into an explanation of what they would have on them that evening, but all Clarke could do was stare at Bellamy as he nodded along with their speech.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


“I can’t believe they actually gave you a weapon.” Bellamy was saying under his breath as the two of them walked down the same sidewalk toward the club.

 

Clarke turned and glared at him. 

 

“I’ve already been on the other side of a gun  _ twice  _ on this whole adventure, both times defenseless. At least this time I have something to take with me.”

 

They had given her a small retractable knife that was strapped to her thigh under her dress. She had been putting it into place earlier that evening when Bellamy walked into the room and saw it, and after he got over the momentary shock of seeing her dress pushed all the way up her thighs, he asked where she had gotten it.

 

Octavia had snuck it to her earlier that day and asked she not tell Bellamy.

 

_ Oops. _

 

Although, seeing Bellamy’s reaction to her near naked thigh, she had a feeling that he might be feeling the same tension she was.

 

_ Good, now he knows what it has been like for the last three years. _

 

I mean, she knew that at one point, Bellamy had expressed interest in her, but that was before she knew that he hadn’t really meant it.

 

\---

 

_ Sure enough, four days later after they had acquired the new painting, Clarke walked into her office to find another tulip lying across her desk. _

 

_ This one was purple, a vibrant purple with all sorts of lighter pinks mixed in at the edges. _

 

_ It was beautiful. _

 

_ She looked around the room and then stepped back out glancing up and down the hallway. _

 

_ Where did the flowers keep coming from? She hadn’t seen Bellamy anywhere around her building. And no one had mentioned him coming around either. _

 

_ She made a mental note to ask around and see if anyone had noticed someone going into her office. _

 

_ When she reached her desk, she picked up the delicate flower and brought it to her nose, inhaling its sweet scent. _

 

_ She flipped the little card tied to its stem over in her hand. _

 

**_Am I winning you over yet?_ **

 

_ She smiled slightly thinking of the last time she saw Bellamy. _

 

**_“And here I thought my help would win you over.”_ **

 

_ Sitting down at her desk, she pulled open a new tab in her browser, hesitating, her fingers tapping lightly against the keys. _

 

_ “Tulip meaning” she typed in the browser and clicked on the first listing in the search engine. _

 

_ “Perfect or deep love, rebirth, charity” _

 

_ She tilted her head to the side gazing at the screen intently, considering those meanings. She supposed charity would be fitting.  _

 

_ She tilted the flower back and forth in her fingers, studying it closely. _

 

**_Yes,_ ** _ she thought to herself. He was winning her over. _

  
  
  


\----

  
  


“You ready, Princess?” Bellamy’s hand reached down, grasping hers and pulling her in close.

 

“Yes.” She said, her breath lighter than before.

 

“Well then, let’s go.” He smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss against her cheek.

 

They approached the same staircase next to the streetlight and went through the same entrance theatrics, the password this time was “Lipstick.”

 

After they entered the club, Bellamy looked around, taking in the empty booths and tables.

 

“Not a lot of visitors tonight.” He whispered in her ear, his hand at her waist pulling her in close. “Let’s dance.”

 

The band was playing some smooth, jazzy song as Bellamy pulled her out on the floor.

 

“You don’t even want to sit down?” She asked breathily as he pulled her in closer, his chest brushing against hers.

 

“Actually, I think he will notice us more quickly if we make ourselves seen.” He mumbled his face coming closer and dipping into the side of her neck.

 

“And-” She gulped as his lips brushed against her skin, leaving a trail down the side of her neck. “How do you plan to do that?”

 

He chuckled into her neck, his right hand coming up to pull the strap of her dress to the side slightly so that he could reach her collarbone. 

 

“Isn’t that obvious, Princess?” He murmured, and at that moment, he reached down and pulled her leg up around his hip, his left hand spanned the width of her thigh as it pushed upwards until it reached her hidden weapon, his palm enclosing around it and pulling her pelvis flush against his.

 

She gasped at the sensation, his mouth closing over her clavicle and laving at it sofly, his tongue licking the flesh there while his hand squeezed her thigh suggestively. 

 

She swore she could feel his hardening cock against her center, but before she could contemplate it, they were interrupted by a voice.

 

“I would thank you not to bring that inappropriateness to the middle of my club, Mr. Blake. At least take it to a booth.”

 

Bellamy pulled away and her eyes were having trouble opening once more, her brain still foggy with her desire.

 

He turned to meet Dante’s disapproving face with a smirk.

 

“Mr. Wallace, good to see you again.”

 

How did he sound so normal right now? Was his heart not racing 300 miles per hour?

 

“I’m assuming since you have returned to my club, you have news for me regarding the whereabouts of my son?” Dante asked with a raised brow.

 

Bellamy nodded and Dante gestured for the two of them to follow him.

 

They walked into a back area of the club that was shrouded with fabric, a hidden room that she hadn’t even noticed was there in the two times she had visited the club.

 

Dante sat in an armchair and Bellamy pulled Clarke to sit with him on a sofa across from it.

 

“What can you tell me, Mr. Blake?”

 

Bellamy paused, reaching over and pulling Clarke closer to him on the sofa and wrapping his hand around her thigh once more, possessively.

 

“I can give you an address. I’ve sent someone there to confirm his location and they found something very… interesting.” He said lowly, eyeing Dante with distaste.

 

“Oh.” Dante said, his voice light and almost amused. “And what’s that?”

 

Bellamy, entirely unamused, answered. “ _ The Concert _ . Except, it wasn’t really. It was a fake. Now, I happen to know that you have been in possession of the real thing, so I am curious as to how your son ended up with a forgery.”

 

Dante’s smile fell and his lips pursed into a displeased expression.

 

“Ah yes. How foolish of my son to have it so openly displayed and easy to find. He’s still learning, you see. Not quite there, just yet.”

 

Clarke wanted to tell him that his son was an outright  _ idiot _ and that he would likely  _ never _ be the criminal he wanted him to be.

 

But she stayed silent.

 

“The forgery, Mr. Wallace?”

 

Dante eyed Bellamy with a salty expression.

 

“How interesting that you have a contact who can both locate my son  _ and  _ identify the authenticity of artwork.” Dante said, his eyes drifting to where Clarke sat.

 

Bellamy’s hand tightened around her thigh, urging her not to respond.

 

“The forgery, Mr. Blake, is how I will profit from my acquisition.”

 

When Bellamy eyed him confusedly, Dante continued.

 

“You see, I can’t very well be caught trafficking art. That would not do. So. I hire a forger to create a  _ very _ realistic replica. So realistic, that I find it unbelievable that anyone  _ other _ than a trained eye would be able to identify it as anything but the real thing.”

 

Clarke swallowed, willing herself to remain neutral.

 

“Nonetheless, once I receive the replica, I give the real painting to my forger as payment. That is our agreement. I am supplied with a profitable painting, a trail of breadcrumbs to my possession of the real thing to help with authenticity, and the forger is then in possession of the real thing,  _ away  _ from me.”

 

It was smart, really, Dante’s plan. He would still profit off the art but in case anyone ever caught him, he could always claim he sold it as a fake and that the person who purchased it knew it was from the get-go. Much smaller sentence than the one he would get from selling the real deal. 

 

“As for my son…” He continued. “He decided that the profit he would make from this sale would be enough for him to start up on his own. He didn’t  _ know _ it was fake, of course. As I told you, very misguided.”

 

“So.” Bellamy began. “The painting is now with this forger.”

 

Dante smirked.

 

“Yes, Mr. Blake. It is.”

 

Clarke wanted to scream. This whole thing with locating his son was all for nothing because Dante didn’t even have the painting anymore. They had wasted two days on this manipulative bastard.

 

“Okay. Fine. I helped you find your son, here’s the address.” He slid a piece of paper across the coffee table between them. “Now. Who is the forger?”

 

Dante picked up the paper, eyed it, and handed it to a man who had walked up behind him before turning back to Bellamy and Clarke.

 

“I only know them as The Commander, I’m afraid.” Dante smiled. “Surely with all of your connections, you can figure out the rest, yes?”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“I can’t  _ believe  _ the gall of that man.” Bellamy vented as they walked away from the club, seething in anger over the situation. “We’ve been all over this country for two days doing his bidding and for what? The painting is gone and now it’s even further away!”

 

Clarke ran her hand up and down his back, trying to calm him.

 

“Bellamy, we’ll find it. I promise.”

 

He stopped at that, facing her.

 

“You promise?” He smiled slightly. “Well, I guess we do have a good history with promises.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, raising his eyes to meet hers under his lashes.

 

She swallowed nervously, her heart racing from its place in her chest.

 

“Yeah. I guess we do.”

 

Bellamy sighed, running his hand through his hair.

 

“The question is, who is this  _ Commander? _ ” He asked in frustration. “We have to talk to Octavia. Hopefully they got enough out of that conversation with these” He held up his hidden microphone. “To put Dante and Cage away for at least a little while. Maybe get a search warrant and lead to more.”

 

“Hopefully.” She said quietly. “Let’s go. I’m cold.” She said shortly, her hands rubbing against her arms in an attempt to warm herself.

 

She started to walk away when she felt something heavy drape across her shoulders.

 

She startled, looking up at the smiling face of Bellamy who had laid his jacket across her shoulders, his smell overwhelming her and causing her eyes to cross momentarily in pleasure.

 

“Can’t have that, now can we, Princess?” He turned back to face the sidewalk and they continued on their way.

  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  


That night as she laid in bed, she tossed side to side, her brain conjuring up images of she and Bellamy at Dante’s club. The way he had grabbed her so firmly, the feeling of his dick against her core. She knew, realistically, it was all a show to get Dante to come out from hiding, but she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he had enjoyed it just as much as she had.

 

She rubbed her thighs together slightly, aching to relieve the tension so she could get to sleep.

 

Looking over at Bellamy in the moonlight, she could see that he was sleeping soundly, his face completely relaxed.

 

Quietly, she pulled back the covers, much like she had the night before, and crept toward the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. There was a chaise lounge along the window at the end of the room and she laid back on it, situating herself comfortably.

 

Dragging her hand down her body, pausing only to grip her breast briefly before continuing her path downwards, she tucked her hand underneath her pajama shorts and her underwear, whimpering as she found her pussy dripping with arousal.

 

Rubbing her clit in small circles, she accidentally cried out before clamping her left hand over her mouth in horror.

 

_ Oh God. If Bellamy were to wake up right now. _

 

She continued her ministrations, willing herself to stop making noise as her left hand joined her right, coating her fingers in her arousal before pressing them inside. 

 

She gasped at the sensation as she pulled them out before pushing them inside once more, picking up her pace as she quickly climbed toward her release. 

 

The sounds of her arousal were sharp to her ears in the quiet room and echoed throughout as she struggled to keep her whimpers at bay.

 

She added a third finger and at that extra pressure, her orgasm rushed through her, starting at the sudden tilt of her head back against the chaise and ending at her toes, her legs curling in slightly.

 

She slowed the movement of her fingers, a longing sigh releasing from her mouth as she contemplated her situation.

 

What was she going to do? It was becoming harder to be around Bellamy without acting on her impulses, and she knew better than to involve herself with him.

 

Not after the last time she let her walls down.

 

For while they  _ had  _ grown closer, even to the point where she would call him a friend, she could never allow herself to be anything more.

 

Not again.

  
  


_

  
  


She tiptoed out the door and back to her bed, quietly laying down and pulling the covers up and over her.

 

As she closed her eyes in an effort to sleep once more, she found that this time, she was able to drift off much easily. Her limbs were heavy and tired, but in a very good way.

 

Tomorrow she and Bellamy would continue their adventure and she needed to be well rested.

  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  


The next morning, she woke to find Bellamy already seated at the couch in the corner of the room, a variety of breakfast items laid out on the table in front of him.

 

She sat up in bed, her eyes still glazed over as she tiredly looked him over.

 

“Good morning, Princess.” He said with a cheery voice, his eyes raking over her form.

 

“Good morning, Bellamy.” She said, her voice low and husky both from her sleep and her pre-sleep activities.

 

Bellamy continued to stare at her until she spoke up.

 

“What? Is something on my face?” She brought her hands up to either side of her face, scrubbing away any drool that might have leaked from her mouth.

 

He smirked and turned back to his breakfast. 

 

“Nope, nothing at all. You look beautiful, as usual.” He brought a forkful of eggs up to his mouth.

 

She rubbed her left palm against her right arm anxiously.

 

“Better get ready, Princess. I spoke with Octavia this morning and they’re going to be busy the next few days working on the Wallace take down, so I called a buddy of mine to help us find out more about this  _ Commander _ . We’re meeting him in Rome, so we’ve got to get back to Paris to catch our flight.”

 

She almost tripped as she was getting out of bed.

 

“Rome? As in Italy?” She gasped, not expecting this new development.

 

“Yepp.” Bellamy said cheerfully. “He won’t tell me anymore until we arrive, but he can assure me that Rome is our next stopping point if we want to find the Commander.”

 

“So we’re going to Italy?” She said stupidly, still trying to understand through the disbelief fogging her mind.

 

Bellamy paused in his eating, turning to her in his seat, leaning backwards and smirking in her direction.

 

“Yes, Princess. We’re going to Italy.”

 

She smiled brightly, wanting to call her parents, Wells, and Harper immediately, knowing they would all freak out.

 

As she walked toward her suitcase next to the couch Bellamy was sitting on, he spoke again.

 

“Make sure to use the bathroom before we leave.”

 

Her head jerked up to look at him in confusion.

 

“It’s just going to be a long drive back.” He smirked, his eyes drifting down her body once more before digging back into his breakfast.

 

_ That was weird. _

 

She shrugged and started folding all of her clothes and stacking them in her suitcase.

 

_ Oh well. _ She thought.

 

She was going to Italy and she would be damned if she let Bellamy Blake and his freakishly attractive face make her feel anything other than excited.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Somewhere in Naples, a man was leaning back in his seat watching a news program on the television, engrossed in the happenings in America.

 

_ What idiots.  _ He thought.  _ How did this man even get elected? _

 

“Sir.” A voice spoke up behind him, so he turned in his chair to face them, a bore,d uninterested expression firmly in place. “They’re on their way, sir. Our sources have found that they have booked two seats on a flight to Rome.”

 

The man smiled deviously.

 

Finally, they were coming his way.

 

Fucking took them long enough. Maybe this thing would be over soon.

 

“Excellent. Thank you, Seiku. You’re dismissed.”

 

The footman bowed slightly, backing out of the room and into the darkness of the hallway behind him.

 

“Now, now.” The man in the chair mumbled to himself, his eyes finding the computer screen on his desk. “I think I’ll give my  _ friend _ Bellamy a little heads up.” He clicked on the email icon at the bottom of his screen. “Can’t allow the Commander to derail all my carefully laid plans.”

 

He paused in his typing.

 

“Although,” He considered, his hand coming up to rub his chin thoughtfully. “She may just make things move along just a  _ tad _ bit faster.”

 

He reached to his right, opening his desk drawer and pulling out an untraceable cell phone.

 

Pushing a button, the phone immediately started ringing.

 

“Yes?” The voice on the other end answered.

 

“Always one for pleasantries, weren’t you?” The man mused with a smile, imagining the eye roll being sent his way.

 

“Get to the point.”

 

He pursed his lips.

 

“You have visitors coming.” He said. “And I’m cashing in that favor you owe me.”

 

“Hmmmm…” The voice said in an amused tone. “I do so  _ love _ visitors.”

 

He smiled.

 

Oh yes. This would speed things up  _ tremendously. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dramatic Music*
> 
> So, what are your thoughts on that last scene? Any guesses as to the future of the fic? Let me know!
> 
> Side Note: This is a Bellarke story. At no point will either of them ever have feelings for anyone else. No matter WHO is introduced.
> 
> Just easing your mind.
> 
> BUT I do love a little bit of jealousy and a whole lot of tension.
> 
> Especially since that tension is about to burst. ;)
> 
> See you next week!


	10. A Change in Pace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, you guys. I don't even know how to handle the response this story has gotten in the last two chapters. I'm so excited that you are all enjoying it and are leaving comments with your thoughts and guesses! 
> 
> Some of you are verrrry close!
> 
> So this chapter is the last chapter before a very big turning point for these two.
> 
> In this chapter you will find:
> 
> \- A National Treasure Reference  
> \- A Veronica Mars Reference (The Movie, specifically #LoVe)
> 
>  
> 
> If you catch either, leave a comment with where it's at and I will send you a sneak peak of next week's chapter at some point this week!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

******A Change in Pace**

  
  


The black car sitting on the edge of the curb had been sitting there for about twenty minutes when the people they were waiting for walked out.

 

She recognized them immediately, of course, after her contact had sent their pictures.

 

A short, blonde woman and a much taller, dark-haired man. They were arguing about something, both wearing heated expressions. The blonde was  _ much _ shorter, but didn’t seem to be intimidated in the slightest. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail and she was staring the man down like she was six feet tall.

 

The man was glaring as well, although his wasn’t quite as heated, a little more soft, like he was trying very hard to keep up the ruse. But his arms were crossed across his chest, his hands clenched, and she could see why the woman would miss the hesitation.

 

They were standing very close together and she watched as the woman brought her hand up to the man’s chest, obviously intending to push him backwards but the man’s hand came up to rest on top of the woman’s, holding her hand tightly.

 

The woman in the black car chuckled.

 

“That them?” Her driver asked, nodding to the couple standing on the sidewalk, argument still ongoing.

 

“Yes, that’s them.” She responded, eyeing them with interest.

 

_ These _ were the two that had uncovered her operation so easily? 

 

She knew the man’s name. Had heard of the relic hunter with a penchant for befriending criminals.

 

That would definitely come in handy in his line of work.

 

She hadn’t been altogether  _ surprised _ when her contact called with his name.

 

But the woman?

 

That was definitely a surprise.

 

“She don’t look like much.” Her driver said with a scoff.

 

The woman in the backseat eyed the other woman with interest.

 

“Well. She’s a museum curator. I imagine she doesn’t get out on these adventures often.”

 

The man in the front turned around to stare at her incredulously.

 

“A museum curator? What the hell is she doing being mixed up in this business?”

 

The woman chuckled, thinking of what her contact had told her.

 

\--

 

_ “They’re an usual team up. The man you’ve probably heard of. Blake. Bellamy Blake.” _

 

_ She nodded distractedly. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. Who’s his partner?” _

 

_ The man on the other end of the phone laughed. _

 

_ “Her name’s Clarke Griffin. Never traveled abroad a day in her life.” _

 

_ This caused her to sit up straight and pay attention. _

 

_ “Why is she with him then?” _

 

_ He laughed again. _

 

_ “Yeah, I might have something to do with that. Safe to say, it wasn’t hard to get her on board and him to let her go.” _

 

_ Interesting. _

 

_ “So. They’re coming to see me. Fine. What does this have to do with you or the favor?” _

 

_ The man sighed. _

 

_ “Well, see. I originally needed the two of them for a different purpose, and while that purpose still stands, I’ve grown rather… attached to them.” _

 

_ She smirked, seeing where this was going. _

 

_ “It’s painfully obvious at this point in their little adventure that they need a little… nudge.” _

 

_ She laughed outright. _

 

_ “Are you telling me that you want me to intrude on the personal life of strangers for your own enjoyment?” _

 

_ He scoffed then was silent. _

 

_ “Maybe. But in my defense, I need them to be getting along swimmingly in order for them to find that damn painting. And I’m afraid the sexual tension is going to fucking suffocate the two of them before that happens.” _

 

_ She continued to laugh before slowly falling silent when he cleared his throat. _

 

_ “And how exactly do I need to help here? I don’t think I’m really his type.” _

 

_ He snorted. _

 

_ “Oh, I’m aware. I don’t want you to have anything to do with him, actually. He’s so fucking obsessed, he would blow you off, anyways. No, I need you to help with her.” _

 

_ The woman’s eyebrow raised in interest. _

 

_ “Oh?” _

 

_ “Yeah. Oh.” _

 

_ Well. This could be interesting. Just what she needed in the middle of a dull work week. _

  
  


\----

  
  


She pushed the button lowering her dark window a little so her eyes could peer out at the couple who had now stopped talking altogether and were facing the street, obviously waiting for their rideshare.

 

The man’s eyes kept flickering over to the woman, his jaw clenched.

 

She wanted to laugh at the obviousness of it all. Her contact was one hundred percent correct. These two were oblivious. It was sad, really.

 

“I think she put herself on this trip. It’s important to her.” She told her driver.

 

She could admire that about the woman.

 

Other than the fact that she was obviously attractive, she was clearly intelligent and strong-willed. If the poor woman weren’t so infatuated with her traveling companion, she might have genuinely pursued something with her.

 

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with the two of them.

 

_ “Just move things along, please.”  _ Her contact had requested.

 

The woman smirked and put her window back into position, closed against the brightness of the Italian sky.

 

“Back to the office, Titus. I have visitors to prepare for.”

 

Leaning back in her seat, she gazed once more at the couple who were getting in the backseat of their car.

 

Oh, yes. She could definitely move things along.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“How could I possibly have known that you keep a separate piece of luggage that goes  _ inside _ of your actual luggage? Who  _ does  _ that?” Bellamy pleaded with Clarke angrily across the backseat of the car. 

 

They had been arguing about this for the past twenty minutes. 

 

Clarke had stopped by the bathroom on her way out of the airport, peeking inside her bag, reaching in for her travel case to touch up her make-up, when she realized that it wasn’t inside.

 

“ _ You’re _ the one who said you had loaded the luggage! I assumed that you were capable of checking all of the rooms in the hotel room!”

 

He let his head fall back against the seat behind him before turning to glare at her again.

 

“Your luggage was packed! It was sitting by the door! I assumed it was ready to go!” He said heatedly, trying to keep his voice down to not disturb their Uber driver.

 

She scoffed, turning away from the window to glare at him.

 

“My travel case is always the last thing packed! I have to be able to access it to finish getting ready before we leave!”

 

Bellamy’s mouth was all but hanging open.

 

“I couldn’t have possibly known that! I thought I was doing something nice!”

 

She turned back to stare out the window.

 

“Well, maybe next time check the bathroom before we leave.”

 

She heard Bellamy snort behind her.

 

“Yeah, well. I would  _ love _ to check the bathroom more often, Princess, but that’s not really an option at the moment.”

 

She turned around, confused.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

 

He side eyed her before turning to look out his on window.

 

“Nothing. We’ll just stop and buy everything you need that was in your travel case.”

 

She sighed, returning to her own position, watching the city pass by.

 

“It was only a few hundred dollars worth of makeup, no biggie.” She mumbled grumpily.

 

“Well, maybe don’t spend a month’s paycheck on makeup then.”

 

She fixed her angry stare on the window in front of her, refusing to acknowledge his statement.

 

Looking outside, she softened somewhat, watching all the beautiful architecture of the city pass by.

 

With each new city she visited, she felt like her heart was rooting itself here, in Europe. Sure, back home, she had a her parents, Wells, Harper… But if she could live here, she would.

 

Too soon, they were pulling up to their hotel, which as Clarke expected, was beautiful. Not just because everything here was beautiful, but because it was becoming increasingly apparent that Bellamy had an eye for true beauty. If he hadn’t been a historian, he could’ve been an artist.

 

“Princess.”

 

She turned at the sound of his voice, soft and low.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said with a sigh.

 

Her eyes drifted down to his lips, watching them form the words of apology. Shifting her gaze back to his, his lips were slightly quirked and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his obvious amusement.

 

“It’s fine, Bellamy.” She huffed, opening the car door and getting out on the sidewalk.

 

The hotel was beautiful but large, its grand presence taking up much of her view.

 

_ Hotel Artemide _ , the plaque beside the door read. Walking inside, her eyebrows lifted to the ceiling. The hotels they had previously stayed in were all nice, yes, but this one screamed luxury.

 

Bellamy walked up to the check-in desk, taking care of their reservation while she gazed at the opulence of the hotel.

 

There was even a spa in this place, she noted. 

 

“Ready?” Bellamy said, walking up behind her after he finished, his head nodding to the elevators.

 

“Yeah.” She said quietly, leading them to the doors that opened almost immediately.

 

“So. I want to take you somewhere.” He said as he leaned back against the wall of the elevator, and she could feel his eyes on her from across the car.

 

“Oh?” She said with a small smile. “I guess you can. You haven’t let me down yet.”

 

He snorted. “Yeah, except the whole travel case fiasco.”

 

She burst out laughing at that, realizing how ridiculous that whole argument had been, but in the heat of the moment, it had seemed appropriate.

 

On some deep, psychological level, she could acknowledge that her reaction was likely due to extreme sexual tension.

 

Sure, she had gotten herself off the night before, but it wasn’t enough. Just being around Bellamy, watching his hands move through his hair, smelling him from her place across the elevator car from her, she was almost dizzy with arousal. How would she ever survive this trip?

 

Maybe it would be over soon and she could go back to Chicago and ignore his long-distance ass again. Then it would get better, she was sure of it.

 

_ Good one, Griffin. _

 

The bell dinged and they walked out into the hallway, Bellamy leading them to a room at the end of the hall.

 

They dropped their bags off in the (Admittedly nice) hotel room before Bellamy took her by surprise, grabbing her hand and immediately leading her back to the elevator.

 

“Right now?” She asked breathlessly, rushing to keep up with Bellamy, who was moving excitedly like a little kid who couldn’t wait to go to the toy section.

 

“Yeah, right now.” He said, grinning at her over his shoulder.

 

“But it’s almost dark outside.” She said, glancing out the window worriedly.

 

Bellamy laughed and pulled her inside the elevator.

 

“Are you scared, Princess?” He asked, pulling her into him, so close that she had to look up to answer him.

 

“Maybe.” She said quietly.

 

Bellamy’s grin faded for a moment, his gaze growing hazy.

 

The singing of the bell brought them out of their daze.

 

“Come on.” Bellamy says with a small smirk, and using his hold on her hand, he pulled her out of the elevator, through the lobby, and onto the street.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


They took their time walking down the sidewalk. Apparently, wherever they’re going, they weren’t going far.

 

Bellamy doesn’t move to release her hand and she doesn’t move to take hers away either. She convinced herself that he had just forgotten he was holding it, so she was planning to take advantage of her good fortune, her fingers clenching the back of his hand.

 

“I haven’t been here in so long.” He said with a sigh. “It’s still just as beautiful as I remembered.”

 

She looked up at him with a confused expression.

 

“Don’t these beautiful places get old for you after a while? Aren’t you here a lot?”

 

Bellamy chuckled, returning her stare and shaking his head.

 

“No, of course they don’t. Everything about this continent, everywhere you go - It’s dripping with historical context. There are  _ so _ many places I still want to see.”

 

_ I’ll go with you. _

 

She stopped herself before she actually said it.

 

But she would. Go with him. She would go anywhere with him.

 

“You still have time, you know.”

 

His eyes found hers again and he smiled.

 

“I know. I kind of want to figure my life out first. Maybe find someone to travel  _ with _ , for once.” He smiled. “I mean, I feel like this dual travel has been successful, after all.”

 

She could feel herself blush under the streetlights that were starting to turn on as the sky grew darker.

 

“Yeah.” She smiled softly at the ground. “I guess it has been, hasn’t it?”

 

He was silent for a beat before he spoke.

 

“Close your eyes.” He said and she immediately looked at him for confirmation. “Come on, do it. Do you trust me?”

 

She didn’t even have to think about that question before she nodded.

 

Closing her eyes, she felt his hand squeeze hers before he released it, the hand he had released coming to rest on her hip, guiding her.

 

“Just a few steps.” He whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her cheek.

 

She felt him guide her around a corner of sorts and a few more steps forward before his guiding hand came to her waist as well.

 

“Okay.” He breathed again. “Open.”

 

She opened her eyes and immediately drew in a breath.

 

It was the Trevi Fountain. 

 

She smiled. It was  _ so _ beautiful. At night, the lights were lit up and it wasn’t as busy as she might have anticipated it being, considering it was probably one of the most famous spots in Italy. 

 

Gazing at the architecture and the intricacies of the sculpting, in real life, it made her tear up.

 

“Hey, hey.” Bellamy said, his hands gripping her hip. “No crying on me, now.”

 

She giggled at his warning before hesitantly moving forward, out of his grip toward the fountain. Walking up to the edge, she looked down into the blue waters, the light glinting off of the metal lying at the bottom.

 

“Make a wish.” She heard Bellamy say behind her.

 

She wheeled around to find him holding up a coin for her to take. She reached forward to grab it, holding it in her right hand and wondering what she should wish for.

 

_ You know what you want to wish for. _

 

Biting down on her bottom lip, she remembered a time when that wish would have been an easy one to make. Before everything that had happened came to be.

  
  


\----

 

**_1.5 Years Ago_ **

 

_ “So. What is this? Number 8?” Harper teased as they walked to Clarke’s car for lunch. _

 

_ Clarke huffed. _

 

_ “Yes.” She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was definitely a very big deal that valuable paintings kept being donated to the museum under her stewardship.  _

 

_ Jackson was already dropping hints at her taking McCreary’s place now that he had finally put in his notice at the museum. _

 

_ Harper laughed. _

 

_ “Oh, come on, Clarke. At least be honest with ME about how smitten you are with the man, even if you won’t admit it to yourself.” _

 

_ Clarke blushed at the insinuation, looking at Harper from the side of her eye. _

 

_ “We don’t even know that it’s him.” She said tersely, fishing her keys from her jacket pocket. _

 

_ Harper gaped at her from her place standing outside of her passenger seat door. _

 

_ “You can’t  _ **_seriously_ ** _ still be in denial about that, right?”  _

 

_ Clarke cringed slightly as she sat down in the front driver’s seat and shut the door. _

 

_ She was. She was totally in denial. But she didn’t want to let herself completely believe it was Bellamy until she was sure.  _

 

_ “Well, one day if I ever see him again, I’ll ask and then we’ll know for sure.” She said, pushing the start button, her electric engine signaling it was ready for travel. _

 

_ “And then you can jump him and thank him for all of his splendid contributions to the well-being of the museum.” Harper’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively and Clarke sighed in amusement. _

 

_ That was just it though. She hadn’t seen Bellamy in a  _ **_year._ ** _ Surely, if he really was interested in her, he would at least show his face. _

 

_ “Yeah. For the well-being of the museum.” She agreed and Harper laughed. _

  
  


\----

 

Thinking back on that time not so long ago, her heart clenched and she looked up at the man in question.

 

Here they were, standing in one of the most romantic cities in the world, the two of them glowing from the light that reflected off the surface of the water in the fountain behind them, and all she could think to wish for was what her heart  _ truly _ wanted.

 

She released a shaky breath and threw the coin over her left shoulder, the plop of the metal meeting water audible to her own ears.

 

Bellamy’s eyes were dark as they stared into her own, an unidentifiable mood settling over the two of them.

 

He stepped closer, his right hand moving upward to tuck her hair behind her ear.

 

“What’d you wish for, Princess?” He whispered, his eyes searching hers imploringly.

 

She exhaled.

 

“Answers.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They stuck around the fountain for a little while longer, Bellamy making a wish of his own.

 

When Clarke asked what he wished for, he refused to budge on even a hint. She gave him a hard time but then he reminded her that her cryptic response didn’t really tell him what  _ she  _ wished for either.

 

Walking in the hotel room, the two of them immediately took turns changing in the bathroom before settling in for bed. 

 

When she came out, Bellamy was staring down at his phone, his jaw clenched, reading.

 

“Is everything okay?” She asked, pulling back her covers and settling in.

 

Bellamy looked up at the wall in front of him and cleared his throat.

 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

 

She wanted to confront him and point out that, no, everything didn’t appear to be fine, but she was too tired.

 

They had plans to meet Bellamy’s friend first thing in the morning at a cafe down the road, so Clarke fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  
  


-

  
  


Gasping, she sat upright in bed.

 

She wasn’t sure what she had been dreaming of, but it was definitely not PG in nature. However, she refused to give into her urges. Pushing her comforter back, she padded into the bathroom quietly, closing the door behind her before she moved to use the toilet.

 

Once she had taken care of business, she stood, looking at herself in the mirror above the sink. 

 

Biting her lip, she took in her sleep shorts and tank top and briefly considered that maybe she should wear more to bed, but Bellamy hadn’t said anything about it so she could only assume he didn’t mind.

 

_ I’m sure he doesn’t. _

 

She shut off her thoughts and once again considered relieving a little of the tension, but resolved to let it go.

 

She moved to the bathroom door and unlocked the sliding door lock, quietly sliding the door out of the way and back into place.

 

Before she could contemplate the change in position, she found herself pressed up against the jamb of the door, her back digging into the wood and Bellamy in front of her, his hands on her hips.

 

“What took you so long, Princess?” He whispered, quiet, in spite of the fact that both of them were now awake.

 

Maybe there was something about the night that inspired the silence, she pondered. Anything, really, to keep herself focused on their conversation and not the way Bellamy’s thumb was tracing circles on the skin of her stomach where her tank top had ridden up in his embrace.

 

She gulped down her trembling nerves.

 

“N-nothing.” She stuttered. “Just taking my time.”

 

Bellamy’s head dipped down, his forehead resting against her own as he chuckled, his warm huffs of breath warming her throat and the tops of her breasts.

 

“No fun tonight?” He said lowly, his thumb now moving slowly up her stomach, pulling her tank top up as he went. He paused at the bottom of her bra-less breasts, his thumbnail creating a path along the underside of her breast. She felt her nipple respond to the attention, straining against the cotton fabric.

 

It took her a moment to process what he was saying but when she did, the fog in her head cleared and she used the palm of her right hand to push him away, his hand immediately dropping back down to her waist to keep himself from being pushed too far away.

 

“I’m sorry,  _ what? _ ” She heard her voice grow higher, squeaky almost at his question.

 

Bellamy chuckled again, his hand squeezing her hip tightly.

 

“What’s wrong, Princess? Don’t like that I know what you were up to last night?”

 

She gasped at the realization.

 

“I could hear you. All your moans, your gasps.” He leaned forward again, his lips on her ear. “I could make you moan, Princess. You’d feel so good.” He promised.

 

She moaned quietly even as she tried to contain it when his left hand met the back of her thigh and lifted her leg to wrap around his waist. Suddenly, his dick was right  _ there _ , pressing against her in the most satisfying of ways, and all she wanted to do was jerk their pajama bottoms down and let him fuck her right there, against the wall.

 

Gathering her wits, she pushed him away once more, moving past him in the direction of her bed.

 

“Bellamy. This is not a good idea.” She said quietly, pulling back her covers planning to tuck herself in once more. 

 

Bellamy turned around his hand coming up to slide through his hair.

 

“Why not? You need to relieve some tension, Princess? I would be more than happy to accomodate. And much better than anything you can give yourself, I promise.”

 

She shivered slightly at his words and his eyes drifted down to her nipples, hungrily taking them in before meeting her again.

 

_ God _ , it would be so  _ easy. _ To do this. To fuck Bellamy. What she wouldn’t  _ give _ to finally know what it feels like to have him deep inside her.

 

_ Do it. _

 

But she couldn’t. She didn’t  _ want  _ to just fuck Bellamy. She  _ liked  _ Bellamy. They were finally back on somewhat friendly grounds and she never thought they would be there again after last year.

 

And they weren’t done. If they slept together and then Clarke had to spend the rest of this trip in his presence, it would be too hard. Not to mention going home afterwards, knowing what he felt like and then having to live without it.

 

Without him.

 

“We can’t.” She whispered, her eyes falling to the floor unable to look at him any longer.

 

His feet entered her line of view and she felt his hand raise her chin to look at him.

 

“One day.” He said, his voice low and firm. “One day, Princess.”

 

He moved to his bed then, settling back under his covers and turning away from her.

 

She swallowed down her retort and climbed into her own bed.

 

_ One day, indeed. _

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Walking up to the cafe door, Clarke was surprised to see Bellamy open the door for her.

 

Not that he didn’t  _ usually _ do that, but they hadn’t really spoken this morning.

 

Not since he cornered her against a wall, almost felt her up, and promised to make her moan, at least.

 

She walked past him, her shoulder brushing his chest and waited for him to enter and point her in the direction of his friend.

 

He motioned for her to follow him and led the way to a table in the back of the restaurant where a man was leaning over his phone, engrossed in whatever her saw there.

 

“Miller!” Bellamy said as they approached the table.

 

The man looked up and upon seeing Bellamy, he grinned.

 

“Blake!” He stood and the two of them embraced.

 

Pulling back, Bellamy gestured to Clarke.

 

“This is Clarke.” He introduced.

 

Miller had already been looking at her, taking her in, his expression unreadable.

 

“Nice to meet you, Clarke.” He nodded, seemingly having decided she was okay, and held out his hand for her to shake.

 

They all took a seat at the table, Bellamy on her left across from Miller.

 

Once they were settled, they each took a moment to order some breakfast with the server before Miller decided to get down to business.

 

“Alright, so here’s the deal. The Commander. She’s tough. Real tough. But visible. You can go see her, but that doesn’t mean anything. No one can touch her, police-wise and she’s very selective about jobs she takes. She is surrounded by a group of worker bees who would pretty much jump in front of a bullet for her.”

 

_ She? _

 

“She?” Clarke asked before she could stop herself.

 

She wasn’t sure why, but when she had been picturing The Commander she had imagined it as a him. Maybe it was leftover residual hatred of Dante.

 

“Yes, she.” Miller said, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t underestimate her. It would be the end of this adventure if you did.” 

 

He pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket with something written on it.

 

“Here.”

 

Clarke leaned forward to read the address on the paper and all but gasped when she suddenly felt Bellamy’s hand on her thigh.

 

“We appreciate your intel, Miller.” Bellamy said, his voice deep.

 

The man across from them nodded and the breakfast arrived at that moment. 

 

Clarke fully expected Bellamy to remove his hand, but instead, he kept his hand firmly in place for the duration of breakfast, occasionally squeezing and even moving a little further up her leg, his pinky just grazing over the material covering her core.

 

She wasn’t sure how she was able to make it through the meal and actually be able to eat, but she did.

 

In the end, when Miller stood to leave, Bellamy finally lifted his hand so that the two of them could stand to leave as well.

 

Walking out to the sidewalk, Bellamy placed his hand on her lower back as he guided her through the restaurant and kept it there while they said their goodbyes to Miller at the door.

 

“See you soon, Blake. Don’t be gone for so long this time.” Miller said with a nod. “You too, Griffin. I imagine I’ll see you around.”

 

And then, just as quietly as he had arrived, he was gone.

 

What had he meant by that?

 

Once he had turned the corner, Clarke stepped out of Bellamy’s touch, but he followed her, backing her up against the brick exterior of the restaurant.

 

“Bellamy.” She said shakily. “What the fuck are you doing?”

 

Bellamy smirked. “Convincing you, of course.”

 

“If I tell you that I think you could give me an amazing orgasm, would that be enough for your ego so you could leave me alone?”

 

He grinned then, his teeth white and clean.

 

“I don’t think you  _ want _ me to stop, Princess.” His right hand was resting beside her head on the wall and he leaned into her space.

 

_ Hell no, I don’t.  _

 

She swallowed down her response and side stepped his embrace and ducked under his arm.

 

“Stop being ridiculous, Bellamy. Let’s go. We have an address.”

 

Bellamy laughed and followed her down the sidewalk, rushing to catch up with her.

 

She didn’t know what was up with Bellamy or what had happened that he suddenly was in seducation mode but it didn’t bode well for her self-control.

 

The public transit wasn’t far from where they had breakfast, so they hopped on board.

 

Luckily, there was only one seat open and Bellamy graciously let her have it, meaning he would have to stand.

 

This new mood of Bellamy’s was one she was familiar with. Although, the first time she had witnessed it, she was more than willing to go along.

  
  


\----

  
  


_ She was bored. _

 

_ So bored. _

 

_ Leaning against the wall, fourth glass of champagne in hand, staring at the glare on the window bored. _

 

_ Her mother had these parties often, usually for different causes or charities. _

 

_ This particular party was a big thank you party for all of those who had helped her get re-elected. Clarke was surrounded by schmoozers and deep pockets who were looking to get a word in with the governor’s daughter.  _

 

_ Luckily, there were only a few select media outlets here, so she didn’t have to answer to many probing questions. _

 

_ All in all, it was a complete and total waste of her valuable time. _

 

_ “At least try and look like you’re having a good time, Princess.” _

 

_ She gasped, turning to the source of the voice. _

 

_ And there he was. _

 

_ He looked just as breathtakingly handsome as she remembered except this time he was in a tux. And  _ **_damn._ **

 

_ He should only wear that. Like. Ever. _

 

_ But it had also been a year since she had seen or heard from him and here he was, standing in front of her, expecting her to just fall all over him. _

 

_ Not. Bloody. Likely. _

 

_ “Bellamy.” She said harshly, the syllables emphasized in her angry tone. _

 

_ Bellamy’s smile instantly dropped and a look of confusion replaced it. _

 

_ “Have I done something to upset you?” _

 

_ She glared. _

 

_ “I haven’t seen you in a year and you just show up at one of my mother’s parties expecting me to be excited to see you?” _

 

_ His eyebrows unfurrowed and his grin returned. _

 

_ “Why, Princess.” He said, his voice dropping lower as he stepped over to where she was standing. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you missed me.” _

 

_ She snorted. _

 

_ Okay, so maybe she did. But he didn’t need to know that. _

 

_ “What are you even doing here, anyways? Did you make a generous donation to my mother’s campaign too?” She challenged him, standing up straighter, her back coming off the wall. _

 

_ He laughed.  _

 

_ “I’m afraid not.” He looked over at where her mother was standing, talking to some disgusting suck-up and nodded in her direction. “This invite was in thanks for a different matter.” _

 

_ She started to question him further when suddenly her mother appeared. _

 

_ “Bellamy!” She said pleasantly, leaning forward to kiss both of his cheeks and Clarke was ashamed to admit she was jealous of her own mother. “Thank you so much for joining us! I know Clarke will be much happier with you here.” _

 

_ She silently glared daggers at her traitor of a mother and she could feel Bellamy’s megawatt smile turn in her direction. _

 

_ “It’s my pleasure, Abby.” _

 

_ Her mother was soaking up everything he was saying and Clarke needed to get away. _

 

_ “I need air.” She said succinctly, moving past Bellamy to the door that led to the balcony outside.  _

 

_ Stepping into the night air, she breathed in the crisp coolness and exhaled in relief, pleased to get away. _

 

_ She was leaning against the railing, looking down into the gardens below, when she heard the door open and close behind her. _

 

_ She chose not to turn around to see who had followed her when suddenly, a hand was resting on her hip, pulling her back into a firm, muscled chest. _

 

_ “You can’t run away from me so easily, Princess.” _

 

_ She shivered, her eyes rolling back in pleasure at the deep timbre of his voice. _

 

_ His hand came around to rest against her stomach, the warmth of his palm soaking through the material of her dress. _

 

_ She gasped as she felt his lips come to rest on her collarbone, his breathing deep and even as he trailed them up her neck to her ear. _

 

_ “Did you like my presents?” _

 

_ Shivering, she nodded as his hand slid up her stomach pulling her back into him just underneath her breasts. _

 

_ “Which ones are you asking about? The paintings or the tulips?” _

 

_ She felt his laugh on her skin as his chest vibrated against her back. _

 

_ “Both, I suppose. I hoped you would figure it out.” _

 

_ Turning around in his arms, she brought her hand up to his chest and looked him in the eyes. _

 

_ “Thank you, Bellamy. You have no idea how much it means to my career.” She swallowed, her eyes drifting to his chest and back up. “To me.” She whispered. _

 

_ Bellamy’s smile drifted into something much more serious as his hand cupped her cheek softly. _

 

_ He opened his mouth to speak when the door burst open once more and an older couple made their way outside, the wife giggling hysterically and her frantic looking husband fanning her with his program. _

 

_ He looked apologetically at she and Bellamy. _

 

_ “I’m so sorry to interrupt. She needed some fresh air.” _

 

_ Clarke smiled and took a step back from Bellamy, her back hitting the railing. _

 

_ “Of course.” _

 

_ She looked up at Bellamy who was still staring at her with that look in his eyes. _

 

_ “We were just going inside anyways.” _

 

_ Clarke rushed to the bathroom, but when she came out and looked for him, he was nowhere to be found. _

 

_ That was the last time she would see Bellamy Blake for a while. _

  
  
  


\----

  
  


The dinging sound alerted them to their stop and they started walking in the direction Bellamy’s phone was telling them.

 

“Why would a well known forger make herself so visible?” Clarke whispered, looking around worried that someone might be listening.

 

Bellamy was concentrating deeply on his phone.

 

“The only reason a criminal makes themselves accessible is if they are positive no one can put them away. Whoever this woman is, she must be very good and  _ very _ protected.”

 

He looked up then at the building they had just stopped in front of.

 

“This is it.” He swiveled around and looked her in the eye. “Clarke. Listen, I-” He paused, closing his eyes and opening them. “I don’t know what to expect here, but we need to be careful.” His hand came up to cup her cheek and she was so reminded of that first night a year and a half ago. “I won’t let anything happen to you. This woman. We can’t trust her.”

 

Clarke knew that what he was saying was true but she couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of this warning. What did he know that she didn’t? Did this have anything to do with the reason why he was suddenly so intent on earning her affections?

 

“Of course, Bellamy. I know that.”

 

He looked down at her lips and then back up and Clarke could tell that he was about to say something more when a voice interrupted them.

 

“Ms. Griffin, Mr. Blake.”

 

They both turned, startled at the sound of their names.

 

“The Commander has been expecting you. Please follow me.”

 

Clarke couldn’t stop her visible shock from showing. The woman knew they were coming? Who the fuck  _ was _ this lady?

 

They followed the man inside the older building to an old elevator at the back of the room.

 

When they stepped inside, Bellamy grabbed her hand and squeezed, refusing to let go, but at that moment, Clarke didn’t want him to.

 

Where exactly were they headed?  _ What  _ had they gotten themselves into?

 

The doors opened and the man exited. Bellamy followed, pulling Clarke along slightly behind him.

 

“Remember what I said, Princess.” Bellamy said lowly as they approached a set of double doors.

 

When they stopped in front of them, the man knocked. They waited a beat and the doors slowly opened. 

 

The man stepped aside, allowing the two of them to pass through to whatever lay beyond.

 

Whatever Clarke was expecting, it definitely wasn’t what they found.

 

It was a woman alright. A very beautiful woman. Dark brown hair that was braided away from her face and dark eyes that were so intense they could bore a hole into the soul of any man or woman.

And she was laying across the seat of a large  _ throne _ like she was a Goddamn Game of Thrones character or some shit, her right leg dangling over the side, her left resting on the ground.

 

When she saw who was approaching, a small smile forming across her face.

 

“Ah, at last. My visitors have arrived.”

 

Clarke was still confused as to how this woman even knew who they were and that they were coming.

 

The woman sat up in her throne and stared at them both with an amused expression.

 

“You must be Mr. Blake.” She said, standing and striding over to Bellamy, looking him up and down in amusement. 

 

As she approached, she eyed their clasped hands with interest and Bellamy squeezed her hand tighter.

 

“And you’re The Commander?” He asked suspiciously.

 

The woman smirked.

 

“Indeed. Don’t act so disbelieving.” She smirked before her eyes suddenly turned to Clarke instead.

 

“And you,” She said moving toward Clarke, eyeing her up and down as well, but this time much less in amusement and much more in interest. “Must be Clarke.”

 

Clarke’s breath hitched at the knowledge that this intimidating woman knew her name.

 

“I’m Lexa.” The woman said, holding her hand out for Clarke shake.

 

Clarke had to let go of Bellamy’s hand to shake it and so she did, even as Bellamy glared daggers at the side of the woman’s face.

 

“Um.” Clarke said with uncertainty. “Nice to meet you?”

 

The woman smiled before gesturing with her head to her throne where two armchairs had suddenly appeared.

 

“Join me.”

 

She walked back to her seat and waited for Clarke and Bellamy to take their own seats.

 

Bellamy sat in the chair on the left and Clarke on the right, both of them facing Lexa on her throne.

 

“It has come to my attention that you are here to see me to gain some information.”

 

Clarke looked over at Bellamy who was eyeing the woman with contempt.

 

“You heard, did you?” He growled.

 

Lexa cocked her head at Bellamy’s tone, surprised.

 

“You don’t seem eager to be here, Mr. Blake. Should I have someone escort you out so I can negotiate with Clare alone?”

 

Bellamy’s jaw clenched in anger.

 

“So I thought.” Lexa said. “Now. Information. I have built a certain reputation for myself, you see. I can’t allow just any information to reach just any ears. I’m afraid I must determine for myself your trustworthiness.”

 

Bellamy’s hands were clenched on the arm of his chair.

 

“I can assure you, we don’t want to harm you or your reputation. We just want the painting.”

 

Lexa leaned back in her throne, her elbows resting on the arms and her hands clasped together.

 

“You see, I have trouble believing that. Especially considering the trouble Dante Wallace now finds himself in.”

 

Clarke’s eyes moved worriedly to Bellamy.

 

How could she know that? It wasn’t public information yet.

 

“I mean, I don’t particularly  _ like _ that asshole, so I guess that plays in your favor, but it would seem you’re not quite as trustworthy for criminals as  _ your _ reputation would have suggested.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face at Lexa’s insult of Dante because, well, same.

 

Lexa’s head turned quickly and she caught the small movement. She smiled at Clarke.

 

“You agree, then?” She asked Clarke.

 

Clarke couldn’t help but snort.

 

“That Dante’s an asshole? Absolutely. About Bellamy’s trustworthiness, not even a little bit.”

 

Bellamy’s head jerked in her direction, seemingly surprised at her visceral response.

 

Lexa eyed Bellamy with more interest now.

 

“You trust him?” She asked, the question obviously meant for Clarke even as she continued to examine Bellamy.

 

Clarke looked to Bellamy who was looking back, almost eager for her answer.

 

“I do.” Clarke said, her response instantaneous and her voice unwavering.

 

She could feel Lexa’s gaze return to her so she faced the woman once more.

 

“I see.” Lexa smirked again and gestured for someone who was standing behind Clarke and Bellamy.

 

Clarke turned to see Titus approaching Lexa on her side as she eaned over to whisper something in his ear.

 

Once the man nodded and moved away, a few steps from Lexa’s throne, she spoke to Bellamy and Clarke once more.

 

“I have made a decision.” She spoke, her voice dripping with authority. “I will share what information I have with you, but only after I have taken time to ascertain your trustworthiness.” She looked at Clarke then. “ _ Your _ trustworthiness, specifically.”

 

Bellamy's head whipped around to stare at Clarke then back to Lexa.

 

“No.”

 

Clarke glared at Bellamy.

 

“She was talking to  _ me _ , Bellamy, not you.”

 

Bellamy turned to Clarke then.

 

“Absolutely not, Clarke. You’re not going to be alone with this woman.”

 

“What’s the matter, Mr. Blake?” Came Lexa’s voice, drawing the two of them from their harried conversation. “Afraid?”

 

Bellamy’s jaw clenched.

 

“Bellamy. She won’t hurt me. You know where I’m at and who I’m with. If anything happened to me, you would know exactly what happened and could alert authorities.” Clarke reasoned with Bellamy.

 

Bellamy’s jaw was still clenched and Clarke was worried about the effect it was having on his circulation.

 

“She has a point, Mr. Blake. I assure you, I won’t  _ hurt  _ her.” Lexa drawled, her smirk still in place.

 

At once, she stood and moved to a door at the side of the room, where Titus was waiting.

 

“Now.” She took off the heavy leather robe she had been wearing, exposing yet another leather outfit underneath. “If you would go back to your hotel, Mr. Blake, I will send Ms. Griffin back to you soon.” She turned toward Clarke and motioned for her to follow. “Well. Not  _ too  _ soon.” 

 

Winking in Bellamy’s direction, she left through the door, Titus still standing, obviously waiting for Clarke.

 

Clare stood from her chair and moved to follow when she felt a hand on her elbow.

 

“Clarke, don’t go.” Bellamy said behind her, turning her in his arms to look at her in the eyes. His hands came up to hold her face, one on either side. “Please.”

 

Clarke was confused by Bellamy. It wasn’t like she was headed to an execution.

 

“Bellamy, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

 

Her breath hitched as he leaned down, his faces inches from her own, his forehead resting on hers.

 

“Just come back to me.” He breathed out. “Promise?”

 

She gulped down her nerves at his sudden vulnerability. 

 

“I promise.” 

 

He nodded and slowly took a step back, turning and leaving out the door they came in from.

 

“Ms. Lexa is waiting, Miss.” Titus spoke up from behind her and Clarke turned and nodded.

 

She wasn’t sure what had gotten into Bellamy, but as soon as this stupid trust pow wow with Lexa was over, she planned to find out.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to play with the whole Lexa bringing Bellarke together thing in this story, considering how Lexa was painfully aware of their romantic dynamic on the show.
> 
> Also, for those of you looking for the sexy times, I pinky promise you that it's coming and soon. *Wink Wink*
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos as I reeeeally like knowing what everyone is thinking!
> 
> See you all next Sunday!


	11. Allowance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Sundays.
> 
> Don't you guys love Sundays?
> 
> So no one guessed the references last chapter!
> 
> National Treasure - The argument that Ben's parents have in NT2 that ended their marriage (He forgot to stow the travel case in the luggage, people).
> 
> Veronica Mars - "You should only wear this. Like ever." from the VMars movie (PS If you've never seen Veronica Mars, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE GO WATCH IT RIGHT NOW #LOVE ARE SLOW BURN EPICNESS DONE RIGHT PEOPLE.
> 
> Ahem. Sorry about that.
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter and please continue to comment! I LOVE reading your comments and some of you have very interesting thoughts and predictions from the story. 
> 
> It's so satisfying! Haha!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Allowance**

 

The room she walked into was much different from the room with the throne. Where that room had been cold with cement walls, this one was much warmer.

 

There were two sofas facing one another in the center of the room. Both were framed by a large plush rug on the floor. On one wall, there was a television that was playing some random cable channel and a movie she had never seen. Along the back, there was a bar that seemed to be stocked fully with a variety of high price liquors.

 

Lexa was nowhere to be seen.

 

Clarke looked around the room, making sure that she hadn’t missed the woman somewhere, but her first glance was true.

 

She wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do or why she was even here, but she needed this to go well if she and Bellamy were going to earn this woman’s trust and figure out their next move with the painting.

 

Approaching one of the sofas hesitantly, she sat down slowly, afraid that at any point someone was going to rush in and tell her that she wasn’t allowed to make herself at home.

 

But honestly, this woman wanted her to stay and directed her to this room, so surely she wasn’t about to make Clarke  _ stand. _

 

She tried to follow along with the movie on the television while she waited for whatever she was waiting for, but the volume was muted and she had no idea what was happening.

 

Looking down at her phone, she kept waiting for Bellamy to text her, something to let her know that all was okay between the two of them.

 

He had been acting oddly ever since they got back to the hotel the night before. She wasn’t sure what had happened to make him think that she would leave him for some reason, but she would have to ask him about it later.

 

Right now she needed to focus on the task at hand and thinking about Bellamy only made her remember the way his hands felt on her body and how his dick had pressed against her so suredly, promising to deliver on all the words he had spoken to her.

 

_ Yepp, doing a great job of focusing there, Griffin. _

 

She shook her head minutely.

 

Focus.

 

The sound of a door opening brought her back to the moment as she looked up to see Lexa entering through a door in the wall she hadn’t seen previously as it seemed to be a part of the wall itself.

 

She had changed clothes and was obviously wearing something more comfortable than the leather getup from before and Clarke couldn’t help but think she looked much softer like this. 

 

More approachable.

 

She really was a beautiful woman. Clarke could see how she was obviously used to getting what she wanted and she knew that her looks definitely didn’t hurt her chances in making sure she could persuade people to see her side of things.

 

“Clarke.” She greeted with a small smile, almost like she was hiding a secret. “Glad to see you decided to stay. I do so want to help you and your boyfriend.”

 

Clarke felt herself blush at the insinuation.

 

“Bellamy’s not my boyfriend.” She said quickly, before she could stop herself.

 

_ Not that you don’t want him to be or anything. _

 

Lexa walked to the bar against the back wall and began to pour herself a drink.

 

“Hm. That’s interesting. I apologize for my assumption, the two of you just seemed...close.” She finished, turning and leaning against the bar. “Would you like something to drink?”

 

Clarke bit down on her bottom lip. 

 

“No thank you, I’m fine.” 

 

No drinks for her. She was here to figure out where the painting was and nothing more. This wasn’t a social visit and she needed to be able to think straight.

 

Lexa looked at her then, almost studying her and Clarke willed herself not to fidget under the intense scrutiny. 

 

“So. The painting you and Mr. Blake are looking for,  _ The Concert. _ Why is it so important to the two of you?”

 

Clarke thought about that.

 

Why was it so important?

 

When this whole thing had started, it was important because it was a stolen piece of history that she was anxious to get back.

 

But would she have even had the courage to pursue it if she hadn’t had Bellamy? Sure, she had showed up at that airport and demanded to go along, but what if he hadn’t been there?

 

And then there was Bellamy’s reasoning. Why was  _ he _ pursuing the painting?

 

Sure, that’s just what Bellamy  _ did, _ technically. Recover lost artifacts. But this wasn’t a job. He wasn’t being hired to do this by the company he worked for.

 

So why was he here?

 

Instead of lingering any longer on those thoughts, she gave the simple response.

 

“The painting is stolen. It’s one of the most famous stolen artworks in the world and it’s a piece of history that deserves to be recovered.”

 

While she felt like that was a very convincing answer, Lexa’s blank face was broken as her lips quirked up at the side in what seemed to be amusement.

 

“What a very well-crafted response.” She said, her voice full of sardonic humor.

 

Clarke stared at her blankly, once again refusing to give anything away.

 

“I’m sure most people would blindly accept that answer from such an accomplished, young curator.” She pushed off of the bar and walked toward the couch. “Speaking of such, how does someone your age find such success so early in life?”

 

She sat down across from Clarke on the couch and even though a whole cushion was between the two of them, Clarke couldn’t help but be nervous at the other woman’s close proximity.

 

“I could ask you the same.” Clarke countered, eyeing the other woman with distrust. “You’re awfully young to have seasoned criminals at your beck and call.”

 

Lexa’s amused face never wavered at Clarke’s accusatory tone, instead, she continued to stare at the blonde with interest, her legs underneath her as she sat comfortably on the couch.

 

“That I am.” Lexa conceded. “But you didn’t answer my question.”” She leaned over and sat her glass down on the table between the two couches. “I’ve done my research. In the past few years, you’ve acquired an impressive number of valuable pieces for your little museum in Chicago. It’s no wonder they promoted you so quickly. You must have a very impressive network of donors.”

 

Clarke clenched her jaw. If Lexa really had done her research, Clarke had no doubt that the other woman knew that she had gotten assistance from someone.

 

From Bellamy.

 

“I’ve been very fortunate.” She conceded, but refused to give more information to the woman. She had no doubt that she knew anyways.

 

Lexa’s arm came up to rest against the back of the couch and she brought her palm up to rest her chin against it.

 

“I would say so.” She said, her voice even. “It’s almost like you’ve had a guardian angel.”

 

Her jaw was growing sore from keeping her thoughts to herself.

  
  


\---

 

**1 Year Ago**

 

_ “Clarke!” Harper said as she came around the doorway to her office, almost out of breath. _

 

_ “Yes?” Clarke asked with a raised eyebrow. _

 

_ “Jackson wants to see you!” Harper’s smile was so bright, Clarke thought for sure that she was going to give herself a headache. _

 

_ Once Harper’s words registered, she immediately felt her heart clench inside of her chest. _

 

_ Oh. _

 

_ Jackson wanted to see her. _

 

_ McCreary had been gone for three weeks now. On to greener pastures, as was always his plan. And with his exit came an empty position in the museum. _

 

_ For curator. _

 

_ At first, Clarke had been waiting for the position to be posted, dreading the inevitable influx of people coming in and out of the museum, interviewing for the position. _

 

_ Except it never came. _

 

_ And here was Jackson, asking to see her. _

 

_ She had a history of success, thanks to Bellamy. Even though it had been almost six months since their encounter at her mother’s party, his help had allowed her to start a network of her own and she had successfully brought a few more pieces to the museum in that time.  _

 

_ The paintings from Bellamy hadn’t been coming since their last meeting and Clarke couldn’t help but think that maybe there was a reason for that. _

 

_ She didn’t know what happened to him that night when he disappeared.  _

 

_ Honestly, she had thought the two of them had been having a moment, but then he had disappeared without a trace and she hadn’t heard from him in six months. _

 

_ Weeks passed after that night where she wished he would just show up as he had the tendency to do. _

 

_ But he never did. _

 

_ She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter, but it almost felt like her feelings were crushed and she wasn’t sure why. They barely knew one another. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel like they had been heading toward something great. _

 

_ Maybe not. _

 

_ “Thanks for letting me know, Harper.” She said, standing and pressing out imaginary wrinkles in her skirt. “I’ll head there right away.” _

 

_ Harper smiled and gave her a thumbs up before disappearing down the hallway. _

 

_ Clarke took a deep breath in and followed her out the door. _

  
  


\----

  
  


“It’s interesting to me how you ended up here.” Lexa said, leaning back against the back of the couch. “Consorting with the likes of criminals like me.” 

 

She looked at Clarke then, her eyes trailing up and down Clarke’s body as if studying her.

 

“I admit that it isn’t where I pictured my life going as a small child, yes, but when you’re personally called out to recover one of the most valuable missing pieces of all time, you seriously consider it before you just say ‘no.’”

 

Lexa’s eyes were still studying and, even though she wasn’t  _ unattractive _ , it was starting to make Clarke uncomfortable.

 

Which was interesting, but, she had no desire to study that reaction any further.

 

When her eyes flickered to Clarke’s once more, she responded.

 

“Ah, yes. Your  _ summons. _ ” She smiled slightly. “An email, wasn’t it?”

 

Clarke’s eyes narrowed at the realization that this woman seemed to know a whole lot more than she should, even for a criminal.

 

“Wait.” She said, her voice heated. “Are you the sender?”

 

Lexa burst out laughing at that and Clarke crossed her arms across her chest in a huff.

 

Once the other woman had calmed down long enough to respond, she wiped her fingers under her eyes, erasing imaginary tears of laughter.

 

“Of course not.” She said simply. “But I do know who it is.”

 

Clarke’s eyes widened in realization before she instinctively moved forward in anticipation.

 

“What? Who is it? What do they want from us? Why did they send it to us?”

 

Her sudden movement caused Lexa’s eyes to wander once more, their path lingering in places that made Clarke squirm in distaste.

 

“I can’t answer that.” She said firmly. “But I can tell you that they truly  _ do _ want the painting recovered.  _ And _ that they mean you no harm.”

 

Clarke’s eyes rolled without her permission.

 

“And yet we’ve almost died at least twice since this whole thing started.”

 

Lexa’s smirk returned and she could swear that she and Bellamy had both attended the same school on mouth expressions.

 

“And yet here you are.” She said, gesturing to Clarke with her sweeping hand. “You know, most people would just go home after ‘almost dying’ twice.”

 

Clarke bit down at her bottom lip at the unspoken accusation.

 

It  _ was _ just a painting. 

 

Why was she still here?

  
  


\---

  
  


_ “You wanted to see me?” Clarke tried to keep her voice from shaking as she lightly tapped on Jackson’s doorway. _

 

_ He looked up from the computer he had been staring at and, once he saw who had joined him, he smiled and motioned from her to come in. _

 

_ “Clarke!” He said, standing and shaking her hand. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I had hoped Harper would get the message to you as soon as possible.” _

 

_ She looked at the papers strewn across his desk and could see that Jackson was apparently a very busy man at the moment. _

 

_ “Absolutely.” She said with a nod. “How can I help you, sir?” _

 

_ Jackson smiled as they sat and he leaned forward on his elbows against the top of his desk. _

 

_ “Well, you see, I find myself in an interesting position.” He paused and brought his thumb up to brush against his cheek in thought. “We have an open curator position. I can either post that position to fill from the outside or…” He trailed off looking at Clarke pointedly. _

 

_ Clarke waited. “Yes sir?” _

 

_ Jackson laughed.  _

 

_ “Clarke, I would like  _ **_you_ ** _ to fill it. If you’re interested that is!” He added the last part on quickly, worried that she might actually  _ **_not_ ** _ be interested. _

 

_ Which was ridiculous because once his offer settled in, her eyes filled with happy tears and her smile grew larger than she could ever remember it being. _

 

_ “I would be honored, sir!” She said as calmly as she could muster. “Thank you so much.” _

 

_ Her watery smile couldn’t be stopped as Jackson continued speaking. _

 

_ “You’ve just done so much for our museum in the past year and a half, I couldn’t imagine giving anyone else this opportunity. And Lincoln was most complimentary regarding your abilities. He said he would be happy to work with you.” _

 

_ She vaguely registered everything else he said during the short meeting, but once it was over, she practically floated back to her office. _

 

_ She had only been there for two minutes when Harper came barrelling around the corner of her doorway, throwing herself into one of the seats in front of Clarke’s desk. _

 

_ “Well?” She asked, excitement coloring her tone and facial features. _

 

_ Clarke could only continue to smile and Harper stood and started bouncing around the room. _

 

_ “I can’t believe it! Well, I mean, of course I can. You’re amazing! But I’m so excited for you!” _

 

_ Clarke laughed at her friend’s exuberance. _

 

_ “”Thanks, Harper. Now I need to call my mom, my dad, Wells...” _

 

_ She traced her fingertips along the cellphone sitting on her desk. _

 

_ “Bellamy.” Harper finished, matter-of-factly. _

 

_ Clarke raised her eyes quickly to meet her friend’s. _

 

_ “You need to.” Harper said, her tone soft. “I know you haven’t heard from him in a while, but I also know that you  _ **_want_ ** _ to tell him. So you should.” _

 

_ She did want to tell him, she realized. Harper was right. _

 

_ She wasn’t even sure  _ **_why_ ** _ she wanted to tell him, other than the fact that, without his help, she never would have gotten to this point. _

 

**_Yeah, sure, that’s definitely the only reason why._ **

 

_ “I have no way to get in touch with him.” She said, her voice low and sad. _

 

_ “Ask your mom!” Harper said, standing. “Now, I have to go back to my job, but I want to hear that you at least reached out to her to ask, kay?”  _

 

_ And with that she vanished around the corner. _

  
  


\----

  
  


“Maybe this painting is really important to me.” She said, defending herself to this too-intelligent criminal.

 

She really didn’t like that she seemed to know everything.

 

“Maybe  _ Bellamy _ is really important to you.”

 

_ Literally everything. _

 

“Well of course he is, we’re partners.”

 

Lexa snorted indelicately.

 

“Don’t insult me like that, Clarke. Anyone with eyes and a brain can see the common denominator in this story. A museum curator with no business going on international adventures and negotiating with a network of criminals, boards the plane anyways. Even after almost dying  _ twice _ , apparently. No other person in your line of work would have continued at this point.” She stared at Clarke pointedly. “So don’t bother denying it.”

 

Clarke looked down at the floor in order to keep herself from looking at Lexa. She wasn’t just here for Bellamy.

 

Right?

 

Lexa leaned over to retrieve her drink from where she had deposited it on the coffee table.

 

“Besides, even if I didn’t know your story at all, it’s painfully obvious from the way you two interact.” She took a sip of the drink. “Poor guy. He was  _ terrified _ that I was going to seduce you away from him.”

 

Clarke’s head jerked in Lexa’s direction once more.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Lexa rolled her eyes and placed her drink back on the table.

 

“Don’t be obtuse, Clarke, it’s unbecoming.” She leaned back into the cushions once more. “I mean, sure, I might have tried my hand at winning your affections had you not been so openly giving moon eyes to that man, but that’s neither here nor there. I don’t interfere with established relationships.”

 

Clarke’s heart rate had to be through the roof at the moment, here sitting on this couch with Lexa. She had never felt it race so significantly at any other point in her life.

 

“Bellamy and I aren’t in a relationship.” She said heatedly. “And he wasn’t scared that you were going to  _ seduce  _ me. He was scared you were going to  _ kill _ me.”

 

“Whatever you say, Clarke. If you want to continue to delude yourself,  _ fine. _ ”

 

“It’s not a delusion!” She said, more shrill than she intended. “Bellamy doesn’t  _ do _ relationships. H-He flirts with anyone with legs.”

 

Lexa’s eyebrow rose to her hairline.

 

“Hmm” She hummed, her voice low and thoughtful. “Have we found a bone of contention here?”

 

Clarke looked away once more, unwilling to share any more. She had already shared more than she ever would have anticipated with a stranger.

 

“I’m not sure what your history is, Clarke.” Lexa said, her voice clinical in its observations. “But maybe you need to revisit it.”

 

Clarke’s eyes found Lexa’s, confusion etched in their centers.

 

“I think you will find that  _ your _ version of the past doesn’t align with his.”

 

_ What the fuck? _

 

“Now that I’ve done my good deed for the day, on to less pressing matters.” She pushed a button on the coffee table and seconds later Titus joined them. “The painting. I couldn’t keep it, you see. Too dangerous, too many people after it.”

 

Titus leaned over and gave Clarke a business card, but it wasn’t like any business card she had ever seen before. There was a phone number and single word underneath, “Leather.”

 

“What is this?” She asked before she could stop her curiosity.

 

“This is an invitation to an auction. My personal invitation. I had the painting, Clarke, that I will not deny. But I no  _ longer _ have the painting. It has been sold. To whom, I do not know and I do not care to know. I have the money I wanted from it, but  _ they..”  _ She tapped the card Clarke was holding. “Will have a record of who purchased it…” She trailed off.

 

“What’s the catch?” Clarke asked, annoyed that she’d had to endure this therapy session with this crazy person just to find out that she didn’t have the painting after all.

 

“Well, they only cater to certain... _ clientele.” _ Lexa looked at her clothes in warning. “Whether or not you can actually get  _ in _ is a question. Much  _ less _ if you will be able to find the information that you’re looking for.”

 

Clarke flipped the card over in her hand, twirling it in thought.

 

They had infiltrated an old school speakeasy and one upped the crime lord of a long-standing family of criminals.

 

They could definitely walk into a gathering of rich people and find a fucking  _ ledger. _

  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  


As she was walking back to the hotel, she kept checking her phone.

 

Bellamy still hadn’t called to check on her, which was highly unusual. If he really had been so worried that Lexa was going to kill her, wouldn’t he have at least  _ texted  _ by now?

 

Looking through her text messages, she saw that it had actually been a while since she talked to Wells, so she decided to pass the time walking by calling her friend.

 

“Well if it isn’t the world traveler!” He greeted and she could hear loud noises in the background of wherever he was. “Hold on a sec, I’ll duck outside for a minute.”

 

“Oh! You don’t have to do that, Wells.” She said hurriedly, not wanting to interrupt his good time.

 

“Are you kidding? I haven’t heard from you in ages! My only updates have been those from your mother, who I’m sure is growing tired of my constant correspondence.”

 

She chuckled.

 

“Doubtful. She loves hearing from you.”

 

Wells snorted in amusement.

 

“Sure. So! She says your in Italy now?” He asked.

 

“Yeah, for now.” She breathed out. “You wouldn’t believe the adventure this has been, Wells. The criminals I’ve interacted with. Don’t tell my mom that part.”

 

Wells laughed through the speaker and she grinned.

 

“Never, I promise. She would be on a plane in a second to drag your ass back to Chicago.”

 

“Exactly.” She laughed and she knew that this was something she  _ did  _ miss about home. Her friends.

 

“How are things between you and tall, dark, and handsome?”

 

“We’re fine.” She said flatly.

 

“Oh really? Because a little birdy told me that you and your Vanilla-Iced-Latte broke things off, so I guess I just assumed that the whole ‘Princess’ thing would’ve taken a new meaning by now.”

 

Her mouth gaped open in shock as she stared down at the phone.

 

“Wells Jaha! Are you insinuating what I think you are?” She said, her voice high and disbelieving.

 

“What? That you and the hot guy you’re traveling all over Europe with are getting it on all over the continent now that what’s-his-face is gone? Absolutely. You weren’t there that day at the coffee shop, Clarke. I thought the tension between you too was gonna combust at any second.”

 

“Of course I was there, you idiot, and there was no  _ tension.” _

 

Wells sighed.

 

“Listen. Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t lie to  _ me, _ Griffin.” 

 

She could hear more loud noises as someone called his name in the background.

 

“Look, I have to rejoin these people. I’m being social in an effort to schmooze my way up the career ladder. Since, you know, not all of us have reached the pinnacle of our life choices already.”

 

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her.

 

“Fine. Go. Be Social. Jackass.”

 

“Love you too, Griff. Be careful over there and make sure you’re being safe!... In every way.”

 

She hung up on him.

 

Why did everyone in the world think she and Bellamy were secretly pining for one another?

 

They weren’t. At all.

 

_ Totally. _

 

Ignoring her inner voice, she looked up to see that she had finally reached their hotel.

 

When she passed through the doors of the front lobby, she had fully intended on making her way upstairs and filling Bellamy in on all the details of her meeting with Lexa (Conspicuously leaving out the therapy session parts), but she was stopped as her eyes flickered over to the bar and noticed a familiar head of curly black hair.

 

At least he was sitting alone this time.

 

She walked up to him and slid onto the stool next to him, her breasts unintentionally brushing against his arm as she sidled through the small space between seats.

 

He stiffened immediately, looking up to see who had joined him.

 

When he realized it was her, he sat up straighter and reached out, his hand coming up to cup her cheek and his eyes roving over her, almost like he was checking her for signs of injury.

 

“Back in one piece.” She said in a quiet voice with a slight smile, leaning into his hand. “Told you I would be back.”

 

Suddenly, his hand dropped from her face and he turned to face the bar, his eyes glaring at the wood in front of him.

 

“Glad you’re okay.”

 

Her heart plummeted in her chest. That was it? So much for Lexa’s insistence that he thought she was going to steal her away.

 

“Right.” She said harshly. “Okay. Everything’s great.” She turned in her seat to face the bar as well.

 

“How did your  _ meeting _ go?” He said, his voice low and almost angry.

 

“It was fine, very productive.” If he was going to be an ass so was she.

 

She could feel his eyes return to the side of her face but she refused to give him the satisfaction of her attention.

 

“That’s it? Fine? Productive?” He said, his voice accusatory.

 

“Yes, Bellamy. It was fine. I have our next lead, but you don’t seem to be very interested in knowing about it.”

 

His eyes narrowed.

 

“Well excuse me for thinking that maybe you had more to share than just the next move on the board.”

 

She gaped at him.

 

“What did you expect, Bellamy? I’m confused. You left me there so I could get answers about the painting didn’t you? Well, that’s what I got!” 

 

Their voices were growing too loud, apparently, because the bartender had just turned and cleared his throat in their direction.

 

Clarke, angry as it was, pushed off the bar and started to rush away.

 

“Clarke, wait!”

 

She was practically fuming as she walked toward the elevators, jabbing the button repeatedly when she got there. When she saw Bellamy running toward her from the bar, she gave up on waiting for the elevator and opened the door to the stairs to the left of the bank.

 

She was up the first flight when the door burst open at the bottom and Bellamy rushed in, calling her name.

 

“I’m sorry, Clarke. Please stop, let’s talk about this.”

 

She kept walking until she made it to the second floor but suddenly a hand was wrapped around her upper arm and Bellamy was twisting her around in his arms and pressing her up against the wall behind her, his hand pushing her right arm into the wall just to the right of her head.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said, out of breath. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to be upset with you or to insinuate anything.”

 

“Why?” She let out a strangled breath, struggling to come to terms with his mood swings. “Why did you? I don’t understand, Bellamy. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

 

He let out a breath and leaned his forehead against hers. 

 

“Of course. Of course we are, Princess. I’m sorry. I just-” His right hand was trailing up her side, reaching her waist and pulling her closer to him, her chest brushing against his. “I just didn’t like her being around you.”

 

She was now struggling to breathe for an entirely different reason.

 

“I know you thought she was dangerous, I understand that.” She reasoned but he shook his head in frustration.

 

“Not just that. Murphy had warned me about her before, I called him before we got on the plane, just to see what he knew. And then the email-”

 

“What email?” She said sharply, cutting him off.

 

“I got another email last night.”

 

Clarke huffed angrily and tried pushing him away, her left hand pressing against his chest, but he wouldn’t give. His hold on her right wrist stayed firm and his fingers pressed into the small of her back around her waist, afraid she was going to run away again.

 

“You got another email and didn’t tell me?” She said angrily.

 

“At first I thought it was to both of us and then I read it and realized it was just for me.”

 

A light clicked on in her brain and she remembered walking out of the bathroom the night before, Bellamy sitting on the bed looking at his phone with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“Last night.” She said breathily. “Before bed.”

 

He nodded.

 

“I should’ve told you, but I thought if I could just.. Make you see that-”

 

“Make me see? What the fuck are you talking about Bellamy?” She was so frustrated at this point, she was having trouble even concentrating.

 

“See  _ me, _ Clarke! That’s all I’ve ever wanted!” His words were loud and echoed in the stairwell around them.

 

_ What?  _

 

“What? I-”

 

But she was suddenly cut off from speaking by the feeling of his lips pressed against hers.

 

So many times she had imagined what it would feel like to kiss Bellamy Blake, but never had she anticipated this.

 

His hands moved, releasing her arm, to wrap around her waist on both sides, his palms encircling her fully. 

 

His mouth covered hers completely and she immediately got lost in the feel of the softness of his lips against her own, moaning loudly.

 

His tongue came then, searching for hers and she instantly relented control, following his lead.

 

Somewhere, in the recesses of her brain, she knew she should stop this. That they shouldn’t be making out in an echo chamber of a stairwell late at night in a foreign city, but she had wanted this for  _ so long _ , that she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Especially as his right hand hotly made a path up her spine until it was entangled in her hair.

 

He gripped the strands in his fingers for a moment before he none-too-gently pulled her head backwards, exposing her neck to his lips. His breath was hot against the column of her throat as he seemed to savor the skin there before he started kissing his way down further to the cleavage exposed by the scoop neck of her tank top.

 

“So long..” He whispered before he nuzzled there, laying kisses along the skin and sucking lightly, leaving marks. “So beautiful.”

 

She whimpered and the sound reverberated around the small space they were occupying.

 

“You have no idea, do you, Princess?” He asked, but Clarke was in no position to answer as he had just pulled down the strap of her tank top and her bra, exposing her left breast to the cool air of the stairwell.

 

His tongue instantly traced circles around her tight nipple before he enclosed his lips around it, sucking lightly.

 

She was so distracted by his mouth, she didn’t’ even realize his right hand was tracing the tops of her leggings until it ducked underneath the band there and into her underwear.

 

“Oh God.” She said, her throat clogged with something she couldn’t name, her arousal at a level she had never experienced.

 

When his hand reached her folds, she almost collapsed in sheer pleasure, just feeling the rough skin of his fingers against the slippery heat of her core.

 

“So ready for me, aren’t you, Princess?” His fingers moved through her folds, tracing a path from her clit to her entrance, never giving her the pressure she needed. 

 

She nodded hastily, hoping against all hopes that he would follow through if she would just be honest.

 

Finally, he pushed two fingers inside of her and her walls immediately clamped down on them, eager for them to stay. All too soon, he retreated, pushing back in just as slowly, teasing her in a way she wasn’t familiar with. Her mouth was hanging open and small noises were coming unbidden.

 

“So tight.” He growled, his mouth biting lightly at the skin of her neck. “You would take my cock so good.”

 

His left hand moved then, gripping her thigh and wrapping it around his hips, giving himself more room to work.

 

A third finger joined the first two and Clarke had to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out and possibly grabbing the attention of some passerby. His hands were so big, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have his dick inside of her, stretching her full.

 

And at that moment she realized that they were in a public place. At any moment someone could open the doorway beside them and see what was happening,  _ hear  _ what was happening. The sound of Bellamy’s fingers entering her wet entrance were loud and distinct, and instead of this information frightening her, it only made her  _ more _ aroused.

 

“That’s it.” He said, his head moving back and his eyes watching her through heavy lids, moving to her exposed breast that was shaking with each thrust of his fingers. “You gonna come on my fingers? Show me how my Princess comes?”

 

His thumb found her clit and started rubbing in small circles and she couldn’t contain her yell then, the sound rough and broken as it left the back of her throat. With two more thrusts of his fingers, she was coming. His fingers kept their pace, the sounds of her wetness growing louder still, even as her head dropped back to rest on the wall.

 

Her mouth was still open and her eyes closed as she came down from her high and realized that Bellamy’s fingers were still inside of her, almost like he didn't want to retreat. He had leaned down to place kisses on her exposed breast, his tongue tracing a path from her nipple up to her collarbone, where he sucked on her skin, undoubtedly leaving a mark that would be visible the next day.

 

The loud sound of a door opening several floors above them caused both of them to jump and move into action.

 

Clarke slid her leg from his waist and Bellamy removed his hand from her leggings.

 

She winced slightly at the abrupt feeling of his fingers leaving her sensitive heat.

 

He leaned in, his hands quickly fixing her top and tucking her breast back inside her bra.

 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” he whispered in her ear.

 

They had both just re-situated themselves when some poor guy came down the stairs beside them. He looked at them both strangely before nodding and continuing on his way.

 

When she looked at Bellamy he was smirking, not even remotely ashamed at what they had been doing in a public location.

 

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs.

  
  


\----

  
  


_ Clarke walked into the cafe that she and her mother frequented with her father for Sunday luncheons when her parents weren’t in the mood to host. _

 

_ Looking around, she didn’t see her mother just yet, but she did see the manager who she knew well so she waved and found a seat in the front near the windows that overlooked the water. _

 

_ “Clarke!” The manager said, approaching her table. “So good to see you. Will your parents be joining you today?” _

 

_ It was unusual for them to be meeting her on a weekday, after all. _

 

_ “My mom will be here shortly. Can we have our usual?” _

 

_ “Absolutely!” The woman beamed. She was a genuinely nice lady, Clarke knew. Not one who catered to them just because her mother was the governor. Paparazzi never found them here. “We’ll put that in for you.” _

 

_ After the woman had walked away, Clarke pulled her phone out to respond to Wells’ text, eagerly waiting for her mother to join her. _

 

_ Hearing the bell over the door ring, she looked up but was disappointed to see it wasn’t her mother, just some guy with a ponytail and a whole lot of tattoos. _

 

**_Cute._ **

 

_ She turned back to her phone and started reading a book she had bought the day before. _

 

_ Five minutes later, her mother walked in, wrapped up in a bright red trench coat and a smile on her face. _

 

_ “Mom!” Clarke greeted, standing and hugging her tightly. _

 

_ “Hello, darling!” She squeezed her daughter. “I was so thrilled when you mentioned grabbing lunch today! I have become so accustomed to only seeing you on Sundays.”  _

 

_ When she pulled away, Clarke could see the genuine happiness in her mother’s eyes and she inwardly vowed to make more of an effort to see her parents on non-Sabbath days. _

 

_ “Well, I have good news! And I was hoping you might be able to help me with something.” _

 

_ Her mother nodded as she took her seat, sipping the tea that their server had brought out in anticipation of her arrival. _

 

_ “Of course, dear. Good news first!” She said brightly, clapping her hands together. _

 

_ “Well…” Clarke started. “I got promoted to curator.” _

 

_ Abby’s smile was bright and she leaned forward over the table hugging her daughter from where she sat once more, the tea cups rattling underneath them. _

 

_ “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you! This is amazing!” She pulled back and let her hand come up to squeeze Clarke’s on the tabletop. _

 

_ “Yeah, it’s awesome, but…” She blew out a breath. “But we both know it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for Bellamy. And I was hoping you might be able to give me a way to contact him.” _

 

_ Abby’s smile fell and she looked sad instead. _

 

_ “Oh. Well, I was actually only able to invite Bellamy to my party through the insurance company. I never had his contact information. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” _

 

_ Clarke’s heart fell a little at that. _

 

_ “Wait. The two of you haven’t swapped information yet?” Her mother seemed genuinely surprised. “I thought, after my party…” _

 

_ Clarke cleared her throat uncomfortably. _

 

_ “I actually haven’t seen or heard from Bellamy at all since then. Not even through work. Which is odd, but I guess we didn’t know each all that well anyways…” She trailed off, trying not to let her disappointment show. _

 

_ Her mother’s face was one of pure pity and she really didn’t want to look at it at the moment. _

 

_ “But I still wanted to thank him for all of his help. If it hadn’t been for him, I would never have been promoted so early.” _

 

_ Abby nodded. _

 

_ “I will see what I can do, but I’m not sure the insurance company will be so willing to just hand out employee information.” She hesitated. “But Clarke. I think Bellamy will be back around.” She smiled slightly. “He seems to have a hard time staying gone for too long.” _

 

_ Clarke could only nod and hope her mother was right. What else could she do? _

 

_ Maybe Bellamy didn’t want to be found. _

 

_ They spent the rest of lunch discussing Clarke’s plans for her new position before they parted ways, hugging once more before moving to the door. _

 

_ “Oh! I’ll meet you outside, I forgot my purse.” Clarke said rushing back to the table. _

 

_ After she had retrieved her purse, she walked back to the entrance, digging around looking for her phone. _

 

_ “Oh!” She exclaimed as she accidentally bumped into someone. “I’m so sorry!” _

 

_ Looking up, she saw the same man who had entered the cafe earlier. Up close, she could see that he had some scarring on his face, but he was still very attractive and he was smiling down at her, so he didn’t seem so intimidating. _

 

_ “It’s no problem.” He gestured for her to walk in front of him.  _

 

_ She nodded politely at him before following her mother out the door. _

  
  


\----

 

Once they reached the hotel room, Clarke retreated to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

 

Stepping into the shower, she washed the sweat and arousal from her body, and the warm water felt good on the muscles that she hadn’t used in so long. Bellamy’s fingers were much larger than her own.

 

_ And so much better. _

 

As she dried herself off, she whimpered at the sensitivity in her nipples, avoiding them all together while she changed into her pajamas.

 

She couldn’t believe what had just happened. 

 

Well, she could. She had wanted Bellamy for so long, it seemed inevitable, but…

 

What had he meant?  _ See  _ him?

 

Of course she could see him. She always had.

 

And now that she had allowed him to see  _ her  _ at her most vulnerable, where would that leave the two of them?

 

She should’ve stood her ground, but she just wanted him so badly. Was it so wrong to indulge, just this once?

 

They hadn’t even had sex and it was easily still the best sexual experience of her life. 

 

His voice, his words, his hands… She would think back on this encounter for the rest of her life, long after he had moved on to other women.

 

She could feel the tears start to come the more she thought about it, so she quickly cut off that train of thought.

 

When she walked out into the hotel room, Bellamy was already fast asleep, but it didn’t look like he had been planning to sleep. He was still in his clothes from the day and laying on top of the covers.

 

She meekly walked to her side of the room and pulled back the covers of her bed.

 

Staring at the ceiling, she contemplated further.

 

Did she regret what happened?

 

_ No. _

 

No, she didn’t.

 

But could she keep doing this? Satisfy her libido with Bellamy, knowing all the while that he wasn’t looking for what she was?

 

She turned to look at him as he lay in bed. His features were so soft as he slept, that she could almost believe that it hadn’t been him who had whispered dirty words in her ear earlier, urging her to come, promising her pleasure like she had never known.

 

But it  _ was _ him.

 

And it was all she had longed for for  _ years _ , and now it was made worse by the fact that she knew they were just as compatible as she expected they would be  _ and  _ the knowledge that he had become one of her best friends.

 

She trusted him with her life. 

 

She could see them together, long after this adventure came to a close.

 

The two of them traveling the world together, maybe settling down in one of the places where they fell in love.

 

Where  _ she _ fell in love, she mentally corrected.

 

For while she could now admit that, yes, she loved Bellamy, she knew better than to expect the same from him.

 

So she elected to keep her feelings to herself, taking what he would offer.

 

Shouldn’t she at least allow herself what she  _ could  _ get from him? Even for this short amount of time?

 

_ Yes, you should. _ The devil on her shoulder swayed.

 

_ You really should. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She really, really should.
> 
> The ice is breaking, people. How much longer until they fall through?
> 
> Hope this little snippet was able to satisfy your requests for them to just "do it already" as well as build anticipation for what is to come.
> 
> I do so love sexual tension.
> 
> SO! Any thoughts? Guesses? Things you noticed this chapter?
> 
> Why is the emailer so invested in the two of them recovering this piece? Or invested in them personally? WHY OH WHY DID BELLAMY DISAPPEAR WITHOUT A TRACE FOR SIX MONTHS AFTER ABBY'S PARTY?
> 
> Also, as we approach "What happened a year ago" in the flashbacks, coming up we will have a slight shift in the narrative...
> 
> I think you'll enjoy it.
> 
> See you next Sunday!


	12. Before the Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY SUNDAY!
> 
> *Party noises*
> 
> So today's chapter is a little longer, so I hope you brought your reading glasses.
> 
> Also, some of you are verrrrrry close with your theories. 
> 
> That's all.
> 
> See you on the flip side. ;)

**Before the Fall**

 

When Clarke awoke the next morning, she squinted against the light streaming in through the window. Bellamy usually closed the curtains before he went to sleep, but well… He hadn’t really done much before falling asleep the night before.

 

Looking over at his bed, she noticed that he was still asleep and still very much in his clothes from last night. His mouth was slightly open and she could tell that he was very likely getting the heaviest sleep he had gotten on this entire trip.

 

She wasn’t about to wake him up.

 

Grabbing her phone from its charger on her nightstand, she shuffled quietly to the balcony door and slid it open slowly, trying to keep her noise to a minimum.

 

She needed some perspective.

 

“I’m going to be a good friend and ignore the fact that it’s four o'clock in the morning my time and instead say” She paused dramatically. “Good morning, Clarke! I’m so happy to finally hear your voice!”

 

Clarke chuckled at her friend’s micro joke and immediately felt apologetic.

 

“I’m sorry, Harper. Sometimes this whole traveling abroad thing makes me forget stuff like time zones. I’m so adjusted to being across the ocean now, it’s hard to remember.”

 

She could hear Harper’s sleepy laugh.

 

“Oh, what a problem to have. ‘Sorry I called you before the sunrise, Harper, but I’m so busy traveling the world with my hot would-be soulmate that I lost track of reality.’” She said the last line in a much higher pitch that was apparently meant to emulate Clarke’s voice, but was so bad, Clarke couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

 

“My would-be soulmate? Really? You can’t come up with anything better than that? Harper, I’m almost disappointed.”

 

“Yeah, well, this little dance of yours has been going on for so long now that if the two of you don’t actually end up together, the sea level will rise 3 whole centimeters from all the tears that the ocean creatures would cry.”

 

Clarke’s face morphed into one of exasperation before she could stop herself.

 

“I actually did call you for advice, you know, and here you are, unknowingly convincing me that I need to call Wells instead.”

 

“Wait! No! I was totally just messing you, come on Griffin, I need details.”

 

“Right.” Clarke drew out the word in playfulness. “Okay, so.” She paused unsure of where she wanted to start with this story. “You’ve been getting my texts, right?”

 

“Of course I have. I do respond to them after all.” She could practically hear Harper’s impatience through the phone. “You and Bellamy are getting along more, he’s done sweet things for you, he forgot to stow the travel case and you had to rebuy hundreds of dollars worth of makeup..”

 

Clarke snorted. Of course Harper would remember that particular incident.  


“Yeah, well.” She bit down on her bottom lip before releasing a sigh into the receiver. “It’s become increasingly more difficult to… navigate our relationship the way that it is.”

 

Harper burst out laughing.

 

“You mean the sexual tension has you in a chokehold and all you want to do is throw him down on your bed and fuck him silly?”

 

Clarke’s head fell back on the surface of the chair she was sitting in and her eyes moved to the sky.

 

She didn’t bother correcting Harper that while yes, that did seem appealing, she really kind of hoped for the other way around.

 

“Do you really have to be so crass?” Clarke mused to her friend who was still very amused by this situation if her voice was anything to go by.

 

“It’s not crass if it’s the truth, Griff. Besides, the two of you have been in the same state for _years._ If you honestly didn’t think your desire for all things Bellamy was going to _increase_ while you traveled across Europe with him, then you’re an idiot.”

 

And this is why she called Harper. She needed some truth bombs from someone who knew her history with Bellamy.

 

“I know that.” She pursed her lips and looked around at the buildings just below her and the people milling about on the sidewalks. “I knew that was the risk I was taking. The problem is..”

 

_The problem is, it’s not just a desire anymore._

 

“Listen, Clarke. I don’t know the full story here. I know that you met the man _years_ ago and that he went out of his way to help you with your career for a very long time. In the midst of trying to handle his own career, he always seemed to be concerned about you as well. Keeping in mind that he barely even knew you at that point.”

 

Clarke only continued to listen to Harper, thinking to herself as she spoke.

 

“No man does that unless they seriously want your attention.”

 

She knew that, she knew all of what Harper was saying was true.

 

What Harper didn’t know was what came next.

  


\----

  


_After meeting her mother at the cafe that day, she still couldn’t find a way to get in touch with Bellamy._

 

_Why she even wanted to, she couldn’t pinpoint._

 

_She hadn’t seen the man in so long that she could almost convince herself that he had never been there at all._

 

_At one point, she had been so sure that the two of them were headed toward something great. That he felt every bit of feeling that she did._

 

_But then he dropped off the face of the Earth and it was like the rug underneath her had been pulled out suddenly and without warning, causing her to fall flat on her face._

 

_She knew better than to get so attached, but in her defense, she had never met someone like Bellamy Blake before. Someone who could challenge her in the best ways possible. Who went out of their way to bring her happiness and cared about her successes._

 

_Who made her heart race uncontrollably from a single look._

 

_So as she sat in her office three days later, she couldn’t help but stare at the number on the screen of her computer._

 

_Her mother had called Bellamy’s place of work, but of course they had not been willing to release private information of their employees. Her mother had also tried telling them that she wanted Bellamy to personally work for her again, that another piece had gone missing, but the company immediately shut her down and told her that she would need to file both a claim and an police report to get the ball rolling._

 

_So that had been a no-go._

 

_She did appreciate her mother trying, however. If anyone was all aboard the “Let’s Thank Bellamy For Helping Clarke Move Into Her Dream Job” train, it was definitely her mother._

 

_Which brought her back to the number flashing back at her from the website she had visited._

 

_It was strange, really. She had been looking for Bellamy for a few days now with no leads, when suddenly, there it was. An email from a Private Investigation company, offering their services._

 

**_Need to find a long-lost loved one? Give us a call!_ **

 

_She knew better than to trust SPAM emails, but she had actually done some Googling and found that their Chicago-based business had many good reviews for the Better Business Bureau._

 

 **_Azgeda Investigations_ ** _, it read._

 

_The number was right there, staring her in the face, and yet she was still hesitating._

 

_It was very possible that these people could find Bellamy for her, but what would that actually mean?_

 

_Did she want to know where he disappeared to?_

 

_Maybe he was just trying to get away from her. Maybe he had changed his mind, and her hunting him down was only going to cause her further heartbreak and embarrassment._

 

_Was it worth it?_

 

_She didn’t allow herself to dwell on it further as she dialed the number into her phone._

  


\----

 

“I know that. I do. It’s just..” She hesitated. “It’s not just about the sexual tension for me anymore.”

 

Harper was silent for a beat.

 

“Oh.”

 

Her friend’s response worried her for a moment.

 

“Clarke.” She said. “You have to tell him.”

 

Clarke’s instinctual reaction couldn’t help but jump to the forefront.

 

“No! Absolutely not! What good would that do?”

 

“Uh, you would get an honest response from him about where he stands on that particular matter? I can almost, without a doubt, one hundred percent assure you that his response will be one that you’re happy with.”

 

“But it’s not that simple Harper, he…”

 

She thought back to that moment one year ago where her heart was crushed inside her chest. She had so hopeful then, so willing to jump two feet into the pool of the unknown with him and then she had drowned spectacularly.

 

“It’s just not that simple.” She finished lamely. “But that’s not even the reason that I’m calling.”

 

“Okay, setting aside that conversation _for now,_ what is it exactly that you need help with?”

 

Clarke thought then to the night before. She and Bellamy in the stairwell as he pressed her up against the wall and made her forget her own name. The sounds that echoed back to them haunted her own memories as she slept the night before, his heated words against her skin, the feeling of his hands on her body.

 

“Is it okay to… relieve some of the tension… without having that conversation? Would it be completely and totally stupid to just.. Let myself have this. Just for this moment, allow myself a little bit of happiness, even with the feelings that I have?”

 

Harper sighed deeply and considered her words before she responded.

 

“Here’s the thing. Is this whole clusterfuck going to end very badly? Probably. But, Clarke, you’re a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions, especially when it comes to your own sexual happiness.” She paused. “Just know, when there are feelings involved, I have always found it better to be honest with myself and with the person on the other end of them.”

 

Clarke looked down at the floor beneath her feet. Harper wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know and she was being a good, honest friend. She just kind of hoped, deep down, that maybe Harper would enthusiastically encourage her to hop on Bellamy’s dick and never look back.

 

“And again,” Harper continued. “I reiterate, I think honesty would end in a best case scenario for you, but I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” After one final break she finished. “I just don’t see this ending well for you if you don’t go that route. Physical intimacy is only going to create a stronger attachment. And if you go for that and then just let him go, without having ever had this conversation… It’s going to leave you in a very bad place that will take you a long time to recover from.”

 

And with that, Clarke knew Harper was probably the best, most honest friend she had.

 

And that she definitely needed to bring her home the best souvenir ever.

 

“What if I promise that I _will_ have the conversation? Just.. not now.”

 

She could hear Harper moving around on the other end of the line and she felt bad that she had woken her friend up to such an early start to the day.

 

“I’m definitely not going to tell you that you shouldn’t jump that sexy motherfucker’s bones, if that’s what you’re reaching for. I think you’d enjoy the hell out of it and that he would undoubtedly go above and beyond to make sure you did. But I will say that sometimes, even those with the best future intentions, find themselves in positions where they’re unable to follow through with said intentions.” She heard what sounded like the fan in Harper’s bathroom, flip on. “There’s a reason why the phrase ‘Carpe diem’ came to be, you know.”

 

Clarke chuckled mirthlessly.

 

“Oh, I’m aware.” She sighed, looking back toward the bedroom through the glass, Bellamy still asleep on his bed. “I will be honest with him, I promise. Just at the end of the trip, when I don’t have to ever see him again if it all goes badly.”

 

Harper laughed.

 

“I’m not going to call you a coward, Griffin, but that’s some chicken shit stuff, right there.” The water turned on in the background. “But listen, you do what you need to do. Follow your heart. Your gut, whatever the hell you want to follow. And I swear to God, if you do fuck that man and you don’t tell me absolutely every detail, I will _never_ forgive you.”

 

Clarke burst out laughing then.

 

“You can’t possibly want to know every detail.” She said between laughs.

 

“Oh, I absolutely do. I’m living vicariously through you, my friend. My love life is non-existent these days, and that man is what sex dreams are fucking _made of._ ” The water turned off. “Now, I’m going to go shower as there is absolutely no way I’m going back to bed now.”

 

Clarke sighed sadly.

 

“I’m sorry, Harper. I’ll stick to text next time.”

 

“You will not.” Harper said sharply. “If I didn’t want to hear your voice, I wouldn’t have answered. Now. I’m going to shower with the promise from you that you will keep me updated.”

 

Clarke smiled.

 

“Absolutely. I’ll talk to you soon.”

 

“You bet your ass, you will.” Harper said and then she heard the line go silent.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Bellamy didn’t wake up for another hour.

 

Clarke was lounging on her bed, checking her email and responding to some things from the museum when he started to stir.

 

She held her breath when he sat up in bed, suddenly very nervous about his reaction to what they had done the night before.

 

He shook his head lightly, his hand coming up to shield his eyes from the bright sun outside. When he finally turned to look in her direction, his eyes were knit together in confusion.

 

“How did I get here?”

 

Suddenly, her heart fell what had to be fifty feet in her chest.

 

“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice trembling.

 

Bellamy looked down at the comforter on his bed before finding her gaze once more.

 

“How did I get to my bed? And…” He reached down and felt his clothes with the palm of his hand. “Why am I still in my clothes?”

 

Clarke was frozen solid, afraid that if she moved, her reaction would be so startling to him that he might fall further off the confused wagon.

 

“Um.” She swallowed, her eyes falling to her fingers that had rested on her keyboard. “You must’ve been pretty wasted. You fell asleep as soon as we got back to the hotel room.”

 

Did he really not remember? And if he didn’t remember that… what else didn’t he remember?

 

“I see.”

 

The tone of his voice caused her to look back in his direction, to find him looking at her intently, searchingly.

 

“You don’t remember last night?”

 

It was a loaded question, but whether or not he realized that, she wasn’t sure.

 

Bellamy looked away from her then to the window where the light was still blindingly bright.

 

“Not really.”

 

Her heart flew even further to her stomach at his admission.

 

How could she have been so stupid?

 

“Oh.” She gulped back tears that were threatening to spill and pushed her laptop to the top of her bed. “I have to use the bathroom.”

 

She all but ran to the bathroom then, avoiding looking in his direction all together.

 

When she closed the door behind her, she leaned back against the wood and struggled to control her breathing.

 

_Stop it, Clarke. It’s not the end of the world. He obviously wanted to do it._

 

But he was drunk, and apparently much more inebriated than she had realized.

 

Oh God, she thought. Did she take advantage of him?

 

“Clarke?” She heard on the other side of the door as his light tap against the wood reverberated through her body. “Are you okay?”

 

She closed her eyes and blew out a breath, finding control from somewhere unknown

 

“Yes, I’m fine.” She said, her voice steady.

 

There was a beat of pause.

 

“Okay. Well, if you want to meet me downstairs when you’re done, we can have breakfast and maybe talk about our next step?”

 

She nodded to herself.

 

“Yeah, that’s good. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

 

There wasn’t a sound on the other side of the door for a while, but then she heard his muffled footsteps as he walked across the room and the sound of the door as it shut behind him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


She took another couple of minutes to gather her wits before she followed him to the hotel restaurant.

 

When she arrived, he was seated at a table in the corner by the floor to ceiling windows.

 

Taking the seat to his left, he looked up from his cell phone.

 

“I ordered you some orange juice.” He said, gesturing to the glass in front of her on the table.

 

She didn’t pause to dwell on the fact that he had been paying attention to her morning routines.

 

“Thank you.” She almost whispered, her fingers playing with the fabric of the table cloth in her lap. “Have you ordered?”

 

“Not yet. I was waiting for you.” He responded, his head nodding toward the menu on the table.

 

She nodded and started to read the menu. The server returned within a minute and they both ordered, Clarke ordering something much less heavy than she normally would.

 

“So.” Bellamy started. “Lexa. What did you find out?”

 

She recalled the day before and her meeting with The Commander and it felt like so long ago. Bellamy hadn’t seemed interested last night in learning what she had to say. But apparently now he was.

 

Clarke sighed.

 

“She’s already sold the painting. Apparently, she put it up for sale in some underground auction for criminals and it’s already gone. She said she couldn’t sit on it for too long and risk it coming down on her.”

 

Bellamy’s jaw clenched in obvious disappointment and she couldn’t help but agree.

 

Even if she wanted to get to spend more time with Bellamy, she couldn’t deny that there was a certain appeal to ending this whole thing and bowing out of the constant danger.

 

“Okay. That’s fine. So we just need to get to the auction and find their records. I’ll call Miller.”

 

She nodded at the suggestion. Reasonable.

 

It was so awkward. How was it possible he didn’t remember? It was the single greatest sexual experience of her life but he couldn’t recall it at all.

 

But she would never forget it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


After breakfast, Bellamy excused himself to call Miller so Clarke retired to the hotel room to occupy herself with things from work again. Anything to keep herself from dwelling on her disappointment.

 

Bellamy returned ten minutes later to let her know they were in luck. The next auction was scheduled for that evening. He said they would need to go undercover yet again to get in. Miller had a friend who frequented the auction who promised to put them on the list in return from a favor from him.

 

Tonight, they would be Mr. and Mrs. Blackmoore. An American couple on holiday, looking to increase the value of their personal collection.

 

This also meant that they would need to be dressed to the nines.

 

Dressed in formal wear next to a suited Bellamy and pretending to be married?

 

What could go wrong?

 

_Or right._

 

Her inner voice didn’t seem to mind that Bellamy couldn’t remember the night before.

 

_You could always try and make him remember._

 

The auction wasn’t until late in the evening and Clarke wasn’t about to sit around with Bellamy, being constantly reminded of her miserableness, so she told Bellamy she was going to the spa downstairs to get ready for the night.

 

So while she was primped, waxed, and massaged within an inch of her sanity, she refused to think about Bellamy Blake and the things she knew he could do to her body.

 

Nope. Not thinking about it.

 

Her inner subconscious snorted.

 

After she finished, she admittedly looked better than she could recall looking in a very long time. Maybe even since the last party she and Bellamy went to, right before he disappeared.

  


——

  


_She had called Azgeda Investigations after resisting for approximately two hours._

 

_The man who answered seemed to think that her wanting to reach out to her long lost friend was not an usual request at all. In fact, he seemed delighted that she had called and promised that he would be back in touch._

 

_So she waited_

 

_It had been two more days when she started to get antsy again. They hadn’t contacted her and she worried that her time was being wasted._

 

_While she waited in line to pick up her Japanese take out, her phone buzzed. She reached in her pocket to retrieve it and found, to her delight, an email from the company._

 

**_Sender: Azgeda Investigations_ **

 

**_Body:_ **

 

**_Thank you for choosing Azgeda Investigations._ **

 

_And that was it._

 

_She huffed in frustration, scolding herself for responding to a SPAM email and thinking that it had been a sign from fate or something._

 

_She was definitely going to have to start monitoring her credit to make sure she hadn’t inadvertently given away the information needed for the man to steal her identity._

 

_When she picked up her food and walked outside, she sighed deeply, resigning herself to the fact that she may never hear from Bellamy again._

 

_And maybe it was for the best._

 

_He obviously didn’t want to be found or he would’ve given her a way to contact him in the first place._

 

_So when she got back to the museum, she opened her car door with a newfound resignation to the facts._

 

_She reached the front door and pulled the door open slightly when a hand took the handle from her and pulled it open for her._

 

_Turning to thank the person, she gasped out loud when she found a familiar face._

 

_“I heard you were looking for me.”_

  


_——_

  


She took to the sidewalks outside the hotel after talking to the concierge about the best place to find a formal dress. She walked about three blocks before finding the store he had suggested and made her way inside.

 

There was a woman behind the front counter, who upon seeing a new customer, rushed to greet her at the door.

 

“Welcome to Reece’s! How might I be of assistance?”

 

Clarke looked around the shop at all of the beautiful dresses and immediately felt overwhelmed. She hadn’t needed to go formal shopping in so long that she didn’t even know what was in style at the moment.

 

“Um. I need a dress.” She said like an idiot.

 

“Of course, mam. What kind of look are you going for?”

 

She hesitated for a moment.

 

“I want to look…”

 

_Hot._

 

She didn’t want to say it, to admit it outloud, but it turned out she didn’t have to because the woman suddenly looked at her with a knowing expression.

 

“I think I can help with that.”

 

It turned out that the woman did indeed know what she was doing and before long, Clarke was exiting the shop with a bag in hand, her hands shaking in excitement at the thought of Bellamy seeing her in her dress.

 

He might not remember the night before, but she would make damn sure that she did her part to make it a repeat experience.

 

When she made it back to the hotel room, Bellamy was lounging on his bed, watching some documentary on the History Channel.

 

She wanted to make some comment about him being a nerd, but then she feared that he would pick up on the fact that his nerdiness made her unbearably hot for him. Just hearing him wax poetic about ancient Grecian mythology made her want to ride his dick so hard.

 

He looked up when she entered and his eyes immediately widened at her appearance.

 

“What do you think?” She asked gesturing to her spa-prepared hair and makeup.

 

They had left her hair down and in curls but pulled back the sides somewhat and her make up was beautiful but simple.

 

She felt good.

 

“You look beautiful, Princess.” He said. The words were undoubtedly polite but his tone was anything but. It made her remember the dirty things he had whispered to her in the stairwell the night before and suddenly she was subconsciously rubbing her thighs together through her jeans.

 

Bellamy’s eyes drifted down at the action, obviously noticing her reaction to his deep voice.

 

“Thanks.” She responded, her voice breathy and full of need, but she couldn’t have controlled it even if she had tried.

 

Bellamy’s hand clenched around the remote in his grip at his side and she watched the tendons in his forearms flex at what was obviously a practice in control for him.

 

_Don’t._

 

That’s what she wanted to tell him.

 

That he didn’t have to control himself. That she was his. That she would gladly let him have what he wanted if he would just take it.

 

Like he had the night before.

 

But if he couldn’t own it while he was sober, maybe he wasn’t ready yet.

 

“I’m going to get dressed. You should too. We need to leave in an hour.” She said quietly, biting down on her bottom lip and holding up her dress bag.

 

“Did you buy something new?” He asked in surprise.

 

She nodded.

 

“Yeah. Gotta look the part.” She reasoned.

 

She knew that the dress she had worn previously would have been just fine.

 

But she wanted to look _hot._ She wanted to bring Bellamy Blake to his knees.

 

And if this dress didn’t do it, she didn’t know what would.

  


—-

  


She stared at her reflection in the mirror, willing herself to breathe deeply and stop stressing out about the night ahead.

 

The plan was simple

 

Get the name of the person who bought the painting and slowly wear away at Bellamy’s self restraint until he could no longer stand it and he made good on his promise from the night before.

 

A promise that he no longer remembered.

 

She smirked to herself.

 

Well, she still planned on cashing in.

 

She ran her hands down the material of her dress one more time before she left, her eyes taking in the black material that hugged every inch of her curves all the way to the floor. The top of the dress was lined with lace that fell just across her cleavage and wrapped around the tops of her arms, leaving her entire collarbone and shoulders exposed to the cool air of the bathroom. The sleeves were long, reaching her wrists, but they were made completely of lace, revealing the skin underneath.

 

She had never felt more attractive in her life. Her mother would never have let her wear something so racy to one of her parties, and she briefly lamented the fact that she may never get to wear something so revealing every again.

 

As it was, she had a man to leave speechless.

 

Turning the lock on the door, she slid it back to reveal the room on the other side. Bellamy was turned away from her facing the wall, fiddling with his cufflinks. When he heard the door move, he turned and glanced over his shoulder before turning back to his task.

 

The second he realized what he saw, she noticed his shoulders stiffen and his hands freeze. He turned around slowly once more, his entire body turning this time, until he had a clear view of her dress.

 

She held her breath, eager to see his response as she analyzed his every movement. The bob of his adam’s apple, the clench of his hands that were still gripping his cufflink.

 

“Well.” She breathed out. “What do you think?”

 

Slowly, she watched his hands drop to his side and his eyes rake over her body from head to toe. He took a step toward her, then another, taking his time as he crossed the room.

 

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Maybe him rushing across the room to pin her to the wall? It seemed to be his MO.

 

But the slow walk and the way his eyes drank in her every curve made her swallow with desire. She could feel his gaze as it traced over her body before finally finding her eyes as he stood in front of her.

 

His left hand came up and wrapped around her waist completely, his fingers pressing into her lower back.

 

She gasped when she watched his right fingers slowly move toward her collarbone, the tips trailing lightly over her skin, her neck instinctually tilting away from his touch, eager to give him more room.

 

“Did you wear this for me, Princess?” His voice was deep and dripping with arousal.

 

She couldn’t even deny him his answer, nodding her head in acquiesce.

 

“Yes.” She whimpered when his finger dipped lightly in the line of cleavage created by her dress.

 

“Well, I’m afraid now we have a problem.” He continued and her head looked up again in confusion. “There’s no way I’ll be able to let you leave my side this evening. Dressed like this in a room full of criminals. No, I’m afraid I’ll need to make it clear who you belong to.”

 

Her mouth opened in a gasp, but all too soon his hands were gone and he was stepping away.

 

She watched through hazy eyes as he snapped the cuff link into place.

 

As he finished, his eyes found hers once more.

 

“Let’s go.”

  


* * *

  
  


As they walked out the front of the hotel, Bellamy’s hand gripped her even tighter against his body. His hands hadn’t left her since they exited the hotel room and Clarke’s heart was fluttering so fast from his sure touch, she thought she might pass out.

 

“Bellamy.” She said quietly.

 

He hummed in response, seemingly looking for their ride.

 

“We’re not at the auction yet, you know.” She hated to even bring it up because she loved his hands on her body, but it warranted mentioning.

 

“I’m aware.” And his hands stayed in place.

 

At that moment, a sleek black Mercedes rounded the corner before coming to a stop in front of them.

 

Bellamy reached forward, pulling the handle and opening the door, guiding her into the backseat with his hand.

 

When the door was shut behind him, the driver turned and Clarke was surprised to see Miller.

 

“Ready?” He asked the two of them.

 

“Let’s do this.” Bellamy said, his right hand coming to rest at the top of her thigh.

 

Her breath hitched but Miller didn’t seem to notice as he turned around once more to begin their drive.

 

Bellamy leaned over then, his nose tracing along the side of her neck.

 

“You smell divine.” He whispered, pressing a lingering kiss in the hollow created by the bones at her throat.

 

“Mmhmm.” She moaned lightly, unable to contain her reaction and most certainly not able to find words to say in response.

 

It was a long ride, as Bellamy spent most of it tracing patterns up and down her leg, occasionally stopping to squeeze the flesh in his palm.

 

“We’re here.” Miller finally spoke from the front seat and Clarke felt herself freeze in nerves.

 

“Don’t worry, Princess.” Bellamy said lowly. “I got you.”

 

She nodded her head because she knew he did. She trusted him. It didn’t stop her from the feeling of dread she felt every time they entered into a situation such as this one.

 

They exited the vehicle with a wave to Miller and Bellamy walked her up to the door of the building, his hand back around her waist.

 

The building was large and seemingly in the middle of nowhere, more industrial than she had anticipated.

 

The guard didn’t even acknowledge the two of them as they walked up and Bellamy merely muttered their fake names, allowing the two of them entrance into the auction.

 

She looked around immediately, taking in the large room, lined with chairs all in front of a stage that took up the majority of the front wall. It was white and there was podium in the middle. All around the room, groups of people dressed as she and Bellamy were, huddled close together, chatting. The occasional laugh echoed through the space and Clarke marveled at the people, rich and bored, looking for a way to make their lives more interesting.

 

Bellamy’s hand tightened around her waist, pulling her in closer and leaning down to whisper in her ear.

 

“In the corner.”

 

She looked in the direction he minutely nodded toward and noticed a door that said “Payment/Restrooms.”

 

So that was their target then. They needed to make sure that they got the name before they left tonight. There was no guarantee they could get another invitation and if they didn’t have a name, they had nothing to go on.

 

“Greetings.” A voice spoke and she looked in its direction to find a couple headed there way. “I don’t believe we’ve seen you here before.” The man continued, his eyes wandering up and down Clarke’s body.

 

While she had felt sexy and empowered earlier when that gaze had been Bellamy’s, this man’s attentions only made her skin crawl. Wasn’t he here with someone else?

 

The woman either didn’t seem to notice or care as she smiled dreamily at Bellamy. She was much younger than the man, but Clarke refused to make any judgements about their relationship.

 

“Yes, this is our first visit.” Bellamy answered, using a deeper voice than she was used to hearing, the one he usually reserved for his television interviews. It made her pussy sit up and pay attention, as it was extremely similar to the voice he had used the night before when he demanded that she come on his fingers.

 

“Well, we are so _thrilled_ you could join us.” He said to Bellamy, but his eyes stayed on Clarke. “My name is Carl. Please let me know if I can get you anything.”

 

She felt Bellamy’s hand curve further around her waist, splaying itself across her stomach possessively.

 

“Will do.” He nodded at the man in question and he and the blonde woman attached to him walked away to other conversations.

 

Bellamy’s hand slid down her stomach a little, his pinky resting just above her core.

 

“Stick close.” He said against the side of her temple, pressing a kiss there.

 

“Wouldn’t dare leave.” She said back, her voice low, but carrying up to where he could hear.

 

She watched Bellamy’s mouth tilt up into a smirk at that and he casually led the two of them toward the door at the back of the room. Once there, he opened it and gestured for her to enter first, as he followed close behind.

 

She could see the signs for Payment to her right so she was confused when she suddenly felt Bellamy tug on her hand, leading her to the left where the bathrooms were located.

 

“Bellamy, what are you-”

 

She was cut off when he pulled her into what looked like a broom closet, the smell of cleaning supplies surrounding them. His lips were pressed against hers immediately and she released a groan before she could even comprehend what he was doing.

 

“So fucking exquisite.” He murmured against her mouth, his hands bunched in the fabric around her thighs, pulling it upwards as he spoke.

 

“Oh God.” She moaned, her head falling back into the door behind her and making a noise.

 

“Shhh, Princess. Gotta be quiet for me, yeah?” His hot breath fanned out across her collarbone where his nose was trailing down toward her cleavage, burrowing there and licking into the hot skin of her breasts.

 

She nodded and whimpered when his hands finally had the fabric high enough to expose her pussy to the cool air of the closet.

 

Bellamy growled low in his throat when he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties, his hands searching for fabric around her waist and finding none.

 

“Were you planning this, Princess? Hm?” His fingers immediately went to her cunt, spreading the wetness that had started to pool at her entrance around her pussy lips, coating her in her own arousal. “Didn’t give it to you good enough last night?”

 

She took a second to register what he was saying and froze at his words, but at that moment, he pushed two fingers inside of her and she gasped at the sudden intrusion.

 

“You-” She panted as his fingers withdrew, dragging against the walls of her channel. “You remember?”

 

Bellamy chuckled darkly into her breasts, where his mouth was still sucking small marks into her skin.

 

“Of course I remember, baby.” He pushed his fingers inside again. “My only regret is that we didn’t get to finish.”

 

“Ahh!” She yelled a little as fingers picked up their pace, frantically pushing in and out, the sloshing of her juices was all she could hear in the quiet confines of the tight space.

 

“I told you. You have to be quiet.” Suddenly, his hand was placed over her mouth, preventing her from speaking on the matter any further.

 

His thumb rubbed small circles whilst his fingers kept their brutal pace and her legs started shaking from holding herself up.

 

“Now, Princess.” Are you going to be able to keep silent for me? So I can finish you off the way you deserve?”

 

She nodded her head frantically, praying he would follow through.

 

He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck before releasing her mouth from his hand.

 

“Good. I would hate to leave you like this because you couldn’t do I as I say.” He withdrew his fingers slowly and she exhaled.

 

She was gasping heavily for breath now, her eyes hooded and drooping heavily, but staying open to watch as Bellamy handed her the bottom of her dress.

 

“Hold this.” He whispered and then he was gone, kneeling on the floor in front of her and it took everything inside of her to keep quiet at the realization of what he intended to do.

 

He pushed her thighs apart, picking her left leg up and draping it over his shoulder, keeping her open to his whims.

 

She felt his tongue lick gently up her folds, circling her clit a few times before making its way back to her entrance. He teased her then, pushing his way inside and kissing her in a way that only he could. He devoured her, he closed around her lips, sucking them lightly into the hot cavern of his mouth. And only once she was whimpering again, did he pull away.

 

“Do something about that, Princess, or I’m going to stop.”

 

_Oh God, please don’t stop._

 

She brought her own hand up to her mouth, covering it firmly.

 

He returned to her folds then, his fingers pressing inside of her once more. Once he was certain she wouldn’t make any noise, he picked up his quick pace once more, his mouth moving to suck lightly at her clit.

 

She was on the edge of coming when there was a knock on the door behind her.

 

“Hello? Anyone in there?”

 

She panicked and started to close her legs, but Bellamy’s left hand pushed her thighs back apart, keeping her firmly in place.

 

“Hello?”

 

She came then, a blinding white light exploded behind her eyelids as Bellamy’s fingers continued working her over, letting her come down from her high, pressing kisses onto the insides of her trembling thighs.

 

“I could’ve sworn I heard something” She heard someone mumble to someone else on the other side of the door and she gasped out the breath she hadn’t been allowed to take as her orgasm rolled through her.

 

Bellamy removed his fingers slowly from her opening before his mouth moved back to her sensitive folds. He cleaned her thoroughly with his lips and tongue, soaking up every last drop of arousal coating her puffy outer lips.

 

She whimpered at the sensitivity she felt as he worked, inexplicably feeling herself ready once more, her opening clenching down, waiting for his intrusion.

 

She heard Bellamy chuckle as he finished, standing in front of her. He brought his fingers to her mouth for her to taste as she licked them clean of her come.

 

“I’m afraid we don’t have time for more right now, Princess.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “But we will. I promise.”

 

She nodded, his hand finding hers as her dress fell back into place.

 

When he opened the door to the hallway, his eyes scanned to see if there was anyone there before he pulled her out with him.

 

The lights were bright after being inside the dark room and she squinted in adjustment.

 

“Let’s get that name, shall we?” He said quietly.

 

They walked to the end of the hallway where the payment room was and noticed a pretty red-haired woman sitting on the other side of the glass opening.

 

“Hi there.” Bellamy said charmingly and instantly the woman perked up and smiled.

 

She leaned over in her low cut dress offering the two of them a very healthy view of her breasts and Clarke couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the effect Bellamy had on women.

 

_You’re one to talk._

 

She chose to ignore her inner voice.

 

“How can I help you?” The woman drawled, obviously going for seduction.

 

She knew the game Bellamy was playing at, so she elected to stay quiet.

 

“Well,” He looked down at the woman’s plaque. “Wanda. I was hoping you could help me, see. We are new tonight and we need a number for the auction.”

 

The woman nodded eagerly.

 

“Of course, sir. I just need some form of payment for the number.”

 

Bellamy pulled a small box out of his pocket that she had never seen before and held it underneath the window, pressing a button on the side of it.

 

“Absolutely, here you are.”

 

He fished a card from his other pocket and slid it across the wood to the woman.

 

She ran the card through the machine and waited, but it was clear after a while that the little machine was having issues.

 

“I’m so sorry, sir.” She apologized. “I need to go check our internet modem and make sure we haven’t lost connection.” She smiled and excused herself, exiting at the door around the corner from the little room and shutting it behind her.

 

The woman winked at Bellamy as she walked by the two of them before she disappeared around the corner.

 

“Quickly, we don’t have long.”

 

He pulled out another box from his pocket that housed little silver instruments that he removed from inside and immediately started to pick the lock.

 

“You can pick a fucking lock?” Clarke said lowly.

 

Bellamy laughed lightly.

 

“Well, it’s a good thing I can at this current moment, wouldn’t you think?” The door sprung open and they ducked inside, Bellamy immediately reaching for a black binder against the back wall marked with the year’s date.

 

He flipped through the pages and Clarke was happy to see that they were placed alphabetically based on the title of the piece sold.

 

He stopped and she looked over his shoulder.

 

There it was.

 

_The Concert._

 

Underneath the sale, she saw the “sold for” price and almost keeled over.

 

Then she saw the name of the purchaser.

 

**_Bidder #47 - TRK_ **

 

Bellamy took a picture of the page with his phone and then tucked it quickly back into his pocket, placing the binder back into its position. He all but pushed her out of the office, closing the door behind them, and returned to the window just as the woman came around the corner.

 

She watched him take the small black box from his pocket once more and press the same button.

 

“I’m so sorry about that, but it would seem our internet is experiencing some issues. Is there any way you could pay with cash?”

 

Bellamy smiled.

 

“That’s no problem at all.”

  


 

* * *

  
  
  


He payed for the number just to maintain their story, but once they re-joined the guests of the auction, the two of them exited from the side exit, finding Miller waiting patiently at the curb one block over.

 

“Did you get it?” He asked when the two of them ducked into the backseat.

 

“Got it.” Bellamy said gruffly and Miller pulled away from the curb.

 

Clarke leaned over and pulled the little black box from his coat pocket.

 

“What the hell is this?” She asked curiously.

 

Bellamy smirked.

 

“It’s a signal scrambler.”

 

_So that’s why the machine wasn’t working._

 

His hand came to rest on her thigh once more, squeezing lightly, and she felt herself blush deeply.

 

“I think we should talk about what happened before.”

 

Bellamy stared at her in amusement.

 

“I don’t know, I think that was pretty self-explanatory.”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“I mean at the fact that you remember last night. And that you told me you didn’t.”

 

He sighed and squeezed her thigh again.

 

“Maybe it’s best if we talk about this later.” He nodded toward Miller who appeared to be concentrated on driving, but could just be really good at pretending.

 

“Fine.” She huffed, leaning back against the seat.

 

Bellamy chucked and at that moment both of their phones dinged.

 

Clarke sat up straight at the sound of her incoming email alert and immediately fished the device from where she had tucked it into the side of the door before they left the vehicle.

 

She opened up her inbox to see one new message.

 

**azgnum2@gmail.com**

 

**Let’s Talk.**

 

Attached to the email was an invitation to a gala. It was some charity shindig and Clarke’s nose scrunched up in confusion.

 

It was to take place the following evening.

 

“Bellamy-” She started but he cut her off.

 

“Yeah, I got it too.” He held up his phone so she could see the same email invitation.

 

She looked up into his face and saw his mouth pressed into a hard line.

 

“I think it’s time we met this bastard face to face.”

  


* * *

  
  


An hour away, the man leaned back in his chair, staring at the email he had just sent.

 

He knew it was risky, making himself known, but he also knew that this little game of theirs had been going on for the better part of a year and it was slowly coming to a close.

 

“Well, I did as you asked.” A feminine voice said and he looked up to see the petite brunette walk into his office. “Did it work?”

 

He smirked.

 

“Oh, it worked. I’m very appreciative, Commander.”

 

The woman rolled her eyes and brought her feet up to rest against the top of his desk.

 

“Yeah, yeah, honestly it was the least amount of mercy I could offer. Those two were hard to even _look_ at.”

 

He tutted at her feet and pushed them back to the floor.

 

“Try looking at it for years, then get back to me.”

 

The woman smirked then.

 

“So that’s it then? You’re done?”

 

The man sighed.

 

“Not quite. They’re almost where I need them to be.” He pushed back away from his desk and turned to rummage through the filing cabinet behind him.

 

“Oh and where’s that?” She asked.

 

He produced a folder from the top drawer and slammed it down on top of the desk so she could see it.

 

When she leaned over to read the words on the tab, her eyebrows shot up toward her hairline.

 

“Oh my.” She looked back at the man. “Are you sure they can handle that?”

 

The man’s smirk returned.

 

“Together?” He paused. “Absolutely.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TOGETHER YALL.
> 
> Anywho. Had to put that nugget in there.
> 
> SO! 
> 
> Those flashbacks, tho.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this weeks chapter, but guys...
> 
> I AM SO FUCKING EXXXCITED FOR YOU GUYS TO READ NEXT WEEK'S CHAPTER YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
> 
> Also, next week is the LAST week the flashbacks will be in their current format. How they will change, I cannot spoil.
> 
> So. Leave me a comment, tell me your thoughts and hopes and I will silently laugh from my perch here on the East Coast of the US and think "Man, they're all so close!"
> 
> *Giggles*
> 
> See you next Sunday!
> 
> -Mally


	13. More Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday Funday!
> 
> So, just making the observation that today is a very good day in the fandom of slow burn fanfic readers.
> 
> That's the only observation I'm going to make at the moment.
> 
> And without further ado...
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**More Questions**

 

_1 Year Ago_

 

_“I heard you were looking for me.”_

 

_She froze at the sight of his familiar smirk, firmly in place._

 

_Trying to convince herself that she was totally unaffected by his presence, she shook her head slightly and returned his smugness with genuine pleasantry._

 

_“I was, actually.” She walked into the building, expecting him to trail behind her._

 

_He did, and as she walked toward her office, they said nothing, but she could feel the heat of his closeness behind her as she unlocked the door and let them inside._

 

_She held the door open and he passed closely by, sitting in one of the chairs across from her desk. Biting down on her bottom lip in nervousness and unintended arousal, she closed the door softly and walked around to her chair on the other side._

 

_“What can I do for you, Princess?”_

 

_That was it? He wasn’t even going to bother offering an explanation? He came on to me quite strongly at the party and then disappeared off the face of the Earth, never to be seen again, and now he was just going to sit there like nothing was amiss?_

 

_“What? That can’t be all you have to say.” She reasoned with him, expecting more._

 

_He sighed and tipped his head back briefly before meeting her eyes again._

 

_“I’m sorry I didn’t call?” He said bemusedly, looking at her with a winced expression._

 

_Suddenly, his eyes flitted to the plaque on her table and widened minutely before he reached over to pick it up and wave it in her face._

 

_“What is this? Curator?” He was grinning widely, his eyes alight with what she thought looked to be pride and she couldn’t help but sit up a little bit taller._

 

_“I got a promotion.” She said softly, squaring her shoulders. “That’s why I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you for all of your help. Because of you, I was able to start a network of my own and now have enough clout in the museum community to draw in pieces and exhibits to the museum so…” She paused, meeting his eyes across the wooden surface of her desk. “Thank you.”_

 

_He smiled a half smile, his lips tilting, almost like he was trying to keep his smile under control._

 

_“It was my pleasure, Princess.”_

 

_That was really it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t going to be forthcoming about where he disappeared to at all. He was just going to distract._

 

_So much for the tulips and the party._

 

_“Well, that was it, really. You can go back to wherever it was you were when you miraculously found out that I needed to see you.” She stood up from her chair and paused. “How did you know anyways?”_

 

_He stood to meet her._

 

_“I got an email from my insurance company. It was kind of weird, actually.”_

 

_Huh. So,either the PI company was able to get through to his employer or her mother. Well, that’s good. That solved one mystery._

 

_She walked around the desk to her door and opened it, waiting for him to make his exit._

 

_His last exit. Once he was gone, she probably wouldn’t see him again. Not for a long time, at least. And if he wasn’t going to offer a way to make that a non-reality, she wasn’t going to put herself out there either._

 

_He walked up to her, almost ready to pass her and exit into the hallway, when he paused and turned slowly to meet her eyes._

 

_“Princess.” He said quietly._

 

_She looked up into his eyes and saw that they were almost skittish, looking at the floor then back to her nervously._

 

_“Yeah?” She asked, breathless for no reason whatsoever._

 

_“Would you-” He paused again, shaking his head, his hand clenching the bottom of his shirt sleeve. “Would you like to get coffee after work?”_

 

_Her breath hitched and Bellamy must have taken that as a bad sign because he immediately stuttered out a rebuttal._

 

_“I-I mean it doesn’t have to be a date or anything. Not if you don’t want but I-”_

 

_She cut him off with a silencing finger to his lips._

 

_“Bellamy.” She beckoned his eyes to hers. “I would love to.”_

 

_He smiled._

 

\----

 

Clarke sat up abruptly in bed, her eyes adjusting to the brightness of the morning.

 

She was in her bed, as usual, and Bellamy was nowhere to be found. Once they had gotten back to the hotel room the night before, they had both been tired. Bellamy had settled in for the night but she snuck out of the room to call her mother.

 

They had a very long conversation where she proceeded to get therapeutic advice but without telling her mother _anything_ about the whole “I’m going to let him have his way with me anyways” thing. Her mother, much like everyone else she talked to, said that she just needed to talk to him about it.

 

And, honestly, she knew that. Really, she did. But was it so much to ask to just want to wait a little while? Wait until she had a few nice moments with him and they were about to go back to the states? There was no need in potentially ruining what they currently had while they were still galavanting around Europe.

 

When she had returned to the hotel room, Bellamy was asleep and the covers on the other side of his bed were turned down, almost like he had extended an invitation to join him, but she didn’t want to make presumptions so she chose to sleep in her bed.

 

Looking over to the place where Bellamy should have been, his sheets were rumpled, but empty.

 

That was when she noticed the notecard on the nightstand beside her bed.

 

_Good Morning, Princess._

 

_I’ve gone to town to run a few errands in preparation for the gala this evening. Breakfast we’ll be delivered for you to our room at 9 AM._

 

_See you soon, Lovely._

 

_Bellamy_

 

He signed his name with a dramatic flourish and instead of rolling her eyes as she would have weeks before, she giggled.

 

She bit down on her bottom lip, looking at the alarm clock beside her.

 

8:42 AM

 

Breakfast would be there soon, so she pushed back her covers and decided to shower before it arrived.

 

As she washed her hair, her mind couldn’t help but wander. What kind of errands was he running? Did he dream about her all night too?

 

Her arousal immediately rekindled as she recalled the night before in the broom closet.

 

She clenched her thighs together and almost considered relieving herself of a little tension, but decided it probably wasn’t best that room service find her flushed and breathing heavily.

 

Once she was dressed and drying her hair out with a towel, she heard the sound of knock from the room’s front door.

 

She tipped the room service attendant and immediately started chowing down on the spread that Bellamy had arranged for.

 

After she was full, Bellamy _still_ wasn’t back, so she elected to lay in bed and watch television. She clicked through the channels until she found reruns of Lucifer and settled in, waiting for the man of the hour to make his return.

 

She must have dozed off because the next time she was awoken, a firm arm was wrapped around her from behind, his hand resting flat against her lower belly and warm breathing  deep and even against the back of her neck.

 

She tensed for a second, not expecting the change, but once she realized what it was - Or rather _who_ it was - she relaxed into his embrace and let herself drift off into dreams once more.

 

The last time she awoke, he was gone. She felt for his hand but it was no longer there. Had she dreamed it?

 

When she sat up, she realized why he was gone.

 

He was showering.

 

Looking at the clock once more, her eyes widened comically.

 

4:22 PM

 

She had literally slept most of the day away. She must have really been tired, her body seeking the rest it had been denied these past few weeks in reaction to all the stressful situations she had found herself in.

 

Knowing that she needed to get ready for the gala and their meeting with the emailer, she got out of bed for the _second_ time that day and padded toward the bathroom.

 

Pressing her ear up against the wood of the bathroom door, she could hear the splashing of water as Bellamy showered.

 

Surely he wouldn’t mind if she came in to start getting ready.

 

Right?

 

She tried the doorknob and found it unlocked, so she opened the door and made her way to the vanity against the wall across from the shower.

 

Immediately, she started plugging in her various hair wands and spreading out her makeup, trying to decipher which color palette to wear with her black dress tonight.

 

Suddenly, the curtain to the shower opened up behind her and she jumped, her eyes instinctually moving to the source of the sound in the mirror.

 

Which she definitely should _not_ have done because of _course_ she was met with a naked Bellamy.

 

His eyes found hers in the mirror and his smirk was back, firmly in place.

 

She tried really hard not to let her eyes drop but it was impossibly, really. Her curiosity over that part of him too great to resist.

 

She gulped when she realized that even half-hard as he was now, he was _huge_ , and she had most definitely never had something the size of his dick inside of her.

 

“See something you want, Princess?”

 

His voice was deep and dripping with arousal and when her eyes found his again, they had darkened considerably.

 

_Oh yes._

 

He reached out to grab a towel that was hanging from the peg by the shower that he used to wipe the excess water from his body.

 

_Oh God._

 

Honestly, it wasn’t fair. The muscles rippled underneath his skin as he wiped down, his abdominals flexed as he reached the various parts of his body, finally ending with his cock that was now almost fully hard and intimidating.

 

He stepped out of the tub, wrapping the towel around his neck.

 

Walking up behind her, she realized that she hadn’t even moved and she quickly sat her blush back onto the counter of the sink.

 

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her against his naked body and she gasped at the feeling of his erection against her back.

 

“Aren’t you going to cover up?” She said breathily.

 

He chuckled against the skin of her neck, pressing a kiss to the skin right at the edge of her hairline that was exposed by her ponytail.

 

“You ever tried to cover up a hard on, Princess?” He turned her around in his arms, his hands engulfing her waist. “Doesn’t really work very well.”

 

She swallowed, her eyes flitting down to his dick again without her permission and he laughed once more.

 

“Besides,” He continued. “Why would I? It would seem you enjoy the view.”

 

She wanted to deny it, to steadfastly refuse him the satisfaction, but _damn._

 

So instead she said, “Do you want me to help you out with that?”

 

She hadn’t meant to say it. It was her stupid subconscious voice that had finally found its way to her mouth, but she said it all the same and Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and amusement.

 

He smirked, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

 

“Not yet, Princess.” His tongue peeked out, tracing a path from her ear to her jaw and back up again, where he nibbled on her earlobe. “I’ll get what I want from you later.”

 

She shivered at the intent behind his words as his right hand came up to tease her nipples that were now obviously straining against her pajama top.

 

She nodded and he stepped away, his smile still in place as he walked away into the hotel room behind her.

 

* * *

  
  


She was just finishing up her hair and makeup when Bellamy finally re-joined her in the bathroom, fully dressed in his suit for the evening.

 

He looked unbearably handsome and she wanted to climb him like a monkey and beg him to just stay there instead of going off to meet the guy who got them into this mess and almost got them shot.

 

_Twice._

 

Her subconscious was as astute as ever.

 

“I have a surprise for you.” He said as he entered.

 

She looked up from where she had been concentrating in the mirror and gave him a confused expression.

 

He reached around the corner of the bathroom door and produced a black garment bag.

 

“I saw this while I was out today and knew you had to have it.”

 

He unzipped the bag and inside was a white gown. It had thin halter straps that ended at a small collar that wrapped around the throat and flowed out of the bag like a true ball gown.

 

He took it out and twirled it around, the fabric swooshing out in a cloud of white and the back was just as beautiful, with long cutouts down the back, exposing much skin. The strip of fabric in the middle was lined with buttons and lace, all the way to the top of the collar where it was held together.

 

“It’s-” She didn’t know what to say. ‘Beautiful’ didn’t seem to be enough to describe it but she was coming up short.

 

“Fit for a Princess.” He finished for her, walking up to her with a soft smile on his face.

 

He leaned in then, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek bone, pulling away slowly to look into her eyes.

 

“Now put it on for me.” He passed the dress to her. “I need to know how to take it off later.”

 

She shivered at the dark promise behind his words and nodded.

 

He sat on the bench across the room and waited, watching as she slowly peeled the robe she was wearing from her body, revealing her undergarments beneath.

 

_You’re still clothed, idiot, why are you shaking so bad?_

 

His eyes devoured every inch of her as it was exposed, and it occurred to her that while Bellamy had now gotten her off multiple times he had never seen her naked or even in her underwear.

 

His gaze lingered on her breasts that were positively spilling out of her strapless bra, but honestly, there wasn’t a lot she could do to contain them in this situation.

 

And he’d seen _those_ uncovered before anyways.

 

That didn’t seem to stop his fascination as he watched her unbutton each of the little buttons and step into the fabric, pulling it up to cover her body once more before turning and offering her back to him.

 

She felt him step up behind her, his fingers enclosing around each of the little fasteners, delicately and carefully taking his time to close each one as his fingers brushed against the bare skin underneath.

 

The dress fit perfectly, she was chagrined to admit, but she reasoned he must’ve just looked at the size of her other dress.

 

When she turned to face him again, his eyes took her in once more. The bodice of the gown really pushed her breasts up and together and framed them beneath the two thin straps and she could feel the cool air of the bathroom blow against all of the exposed skin on her arms and back.

 

“Absolutely breathtaking.” He said softly, his finger trailing a path from her neck down her chest, stopping at the fabric beneath her breasts.

 

Abruptly, he stepped back and offered his hand.

 

“Shall we?”

 

\----

 

_That workday was the longest she could ever remember experiencing. She was anxious, bouncing around nervously all day, eager to get her mandated time over with so she could meet Bellamy._

 

_They had agreed to meet at one of his favorite places a couple of blocks from here, so she wouldn’t even have to drive to get there._

 

_Harper had questioned her several times on what was up but she refused to say anything, she didn’t want to jinx what could be the very promising beginning of something new._

 

_Finally, as they were packing up to leave for the day, Harper had had enough._

 

_“Clarke. You’re practically vibrating right now.” She looked over at her friend who was struggling to lock the door of the museum. “Are you sure everything is okay?”_

 

_Clarke smiled and nodded, calming herself and locking the door._

 

_“Yeah, I’m just nervous. I-” She paused. She could tell Harper but just leave out that it was Bellamy. No point in getting her all excited. “I have a date today.”_

 

_Harper grinned then, pleased for her friend._

 

_“That’s awesome! I’m so happy for you!” They walked toward the back of the building where they would exit. “After your thing with Bellamy, I wasn’t sure when you’d give someone else a chance.”_

 

_She hated lying to her friend, but she didn’t want to get her own hopes up, especially since he still hadn’t told her where he’d been for the past six months._

 

_“Yeah, well, here I go, out into the grown up world once more.”_

 

_Harper laughed and opened the door for her which Clarke then turned to lock._

_“Have a good time! I want to hear all about it.” She grinned and walked to her car, Clarke waving goodbye all the way._

 

_The walk to the coffee shop wasn’t far so she left her gloves in her car in spite of the chilly weather and decided to take her time as she went. She and Bellamy weren’t supposed to meet for another thirty minutes so she had time to take in the scenery, the water imposing as she walked beside it._

 

_She was about a block away when she heard a loud, feminine laugh._

 

_Her eyes immediately sought out the source of the loud noise and was rewarded when they found a tall, imposing brunette with swishy brown hair in a high ponytail. She was laughing and pushing against the chest of the man she was with._

 

 _Suddenly, her brain ticked into gear and realized that the man was_ **_Bellamy._ **

 

 **_Okay, it could be nothing._ ** _Her subconscious reasoned, as she quickly spiraled into worst case scenario territory._

 

_He was grinning a huge smile, one that she wasn’t sure she had ever seen before and all of her insecurities regarding the last few months opened up and threatened to swallow her whole._

 

_She quickly ducked down the side street before he could realize she had seen him and continued her walk to the coffee shop by going around the building and up the other street._

 

**_It was nothing, okay? Nothing,_ **

 

_She made it to the coffee shop, shaking for a different reason now, and sat at the table by the window to wait, wanting Bellamy to see her immediately when he came in._

 

_She had been sitting there for about ten minutes when someone sat in the chair across from her._

 

_Her heart rate picked up, expecting it to be Bellamy, but when she looked up, it was someone she didn’t know._

 

_He was cute, she supposed, in that boyband, floppy-hair-that-he-really-should’ve-cut-in-the-12th-grade kind of way. He was grinning at her like he had won the lottery._

 

_“Um.” She hesitated. Did she know this guy? “Can I help you?”_

 

_He just kept smiling at her and it was really starting to unnerve her._

 

_“You’re Clarke Griffin, right?”_

 

_She grimaced as she realized why this man was sitting with her._

 

_“I don’t mean to sound creepy, really, it’s just that I’ve seen you around.”_

 

_She raised an eyebrow at his statement._

 

_“At your mom’s parties!” He clarified. “I’m a photographer for one of the magazines that has a press pass to the governor’s office.”_

 

_“Okay.” She responded. “How can I help you?”_

 

_He was still grinning and she kind of wanted to punch him in the face._

 

_“Oh, I won’t bother you anymore, I just wanted to introduce myself.” He held his hand out for her to shake. “Finn Collins.”_

 

_She shook his hand out of politeness, not wanting him to write up something rude about her mother._

 

_“Nice to meet you.” She said, her teeth only slightly gritted._

 

_“Nice to meet you too.” He grinned. Surprise. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”_

 

_He stood then and made his way to the door of the shop, leaving and disappearing into the crowded streets._

 

_She sighed, looking down at her watch and realizing that she only had five minutes until Bellamy arrived._

 

_Did she questioned him about the girl he saw her with? Did she ignore it?_

 

_As it turned out, she didn’t have to make the decision._

 

_Their meet time came and went and Bellamy never arrived._

 

_She waited, fifteen minutes, thirty minutes… No Bellamy._

 

_Finally, forty five minutes later, she left, tears threatening the corners of her eyes._

 

_No more._

 

_She wouldn’t waste anymore time on someone who obviously didn’t care about her the way she did about him._

 

\-----

 

The ballroom was beautifully decorated, the walls adorned with gauzy white clouds of fabric and twinkling lights hanging from every surface.

 

She felt like she was walking into a dream, her cream colored dress floating on the hardwood floor and Bellamy’s hand gripping her waist as he guided her through the crowd of tables to the one that listed their names on little cards.

 

The gala was being hosted to raise funds for some local charity aiming to help the homeless and it seems like a really great cause, but definitely not one that Clarke would have ever thought would interest a criminal underground.

 

Maybe their contact was a criminal with a heart?

 

_Snort._

 

They had been at the ball for thirty minutes, waiting at the table. Bellamy’s hand was resting on her knee as they chatted politely with the people sitting with them, nibbling on the food provided.

 

Were any of these people the emailer?

 

She received her answer when both of their phones dinged.

 

A new message in their inboxes.

 

**azgnum2@gmail.com**

 

**Meet me on the balcony.**

 

This was it.

 

Her eyes met Bellamy’s, who seemed to be very nervous all of a sudden.

 

“You stay here.” He nodded. “I’ll go.”

 

“Absolutely not!” She was offended that he even suggested that. “I’m not letting you go meet up with a possibly dangerous criminal by yourself, you idiot.”

 

He rolled his eyes and stood offering his hand.

 

“Well, fine, but you will stay behind me, do you understand?”

 

She took his hand and nodded.

 

He led them toward the tall glass windows lining the wall of the ballroom at the end of the room and opened the door gesturing for her to follow behind him.

 

When they stepped outside, the temperature was much cooler and Clarke immediately stepped closer to Bellamy, soaking in the warmth of his body.

 

“Ah, there you are.” A voice sounded from the shadows to their right. “Been a while, buddy.”

 

Around the corner appeared a man. He was attractive, a scar marring the side of his face, but attractive nonetheless. He looked… familiar.

 

“Roan?!” Bellamy all but roared and the man looked around to make sure he hadn’t alerted anyone to their presence. “What the fuck?”

 

The man chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

 

“Listen, I’m going to need you to keep your voice down, friend. I know it has been a while and all that, but I’m still in the business. Can’t draw attention, you see.”

 

Bellamy looked furious and Clarke was struggling to keep up.

 

Bellamy knew this man? This person who had gotten them into this mess?

 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t fucking take care of you right now, asshole.”

 

The man laughed again, this time genuinely amused.

 

“Well, one, because Murphy would never forgive you. Two, you know I’m practically harmless. And three, I know you want to find that fucking painting to impress your girl over here.”

 

Bellamy’s jaw clenched and Clarke squeezed his hand, trying to calm him with her presence.

 

“Do you have any idea the things we’ve run into? Do you? Clarke could have DIED! Multiple times! All because of you and your stupid fucking email!”

 

Roan’s grin fell then.

 

“But she _didn’t_ die, did she Bellamy?” He walked closer to the two of them. “Listen, I knew that she needed to be apart of this or you wouldn’t be successful. There were fakes floating around and let’s be honest, you needed some extra motivation to get you going on this particular assignment.”

 

Clarke’s confused face only strengthened and Roan must have noticed.

 

“You see, Clarke, it’s near impossible to get this bastard to Europe these days. He almost always seems to be in _America_ for whatever fucking reason. Used to think it was just Octavia but then I-”

 

“Foregoing to the fact that you seem to be _stalking_ me for whatever reason, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you could’ve just fucking _called_ me to help you find this painting. You didn’t need to be some secretive third party and you _definitely_ didn’t need to drag Clarke into all of this!”

 

Honestly, she was starting to feel a little put out by Bellamy’s anger over her being there. She had been helpful, hadn’t she?

 

“Of course I did, Bellamy!” The man said back, heatedly defending himself. “You’re not here anymore, man. You don’t know what TRK is capable of! People are _dying._ ” For the first time, the man’s face had a hint of sadness and deep, underlying grief and Bellamy tensed. “There wasn’t a guarantee that you would help. And let’s be honest, you’re really shitty at identifying forgeries.”

 

Bellamy winced, obviously recalling a previous incident the two of them were aware of.

 

“I tried looking for you. You weren’t around. I went to Murphy and he said that you had been spending more time in America, in Illinois, of all places.”

 

Clarke’s heart was racing - Bellamy had been in Illinois? When? How often? She just assumed that everytime he disappeared he was here, on a job.

 

“So I went there, looking for you, and found her.” He pointed to Clarke, who shrunk behind Bellamy further. “Murphy told me about her.” He said by way of explanation. “I thought if I could just reconcile the two of you, that maybe you would find your focus again and would help but then whatever the fuck happened after that, you never resurfaced! You fucking disappeared for a _year._ Do you know how much damage has been done in the past year?”

 

Bellamy’s grip on her hip tightened as he held her behind his back.

 

“And then there you were again, after all that time. _In Chicago._ So fucking predictable, man. On the news, even! So that’s when I decided to start this whole email farce.” He was shaking his head. “And then it occurred to me, maybe you need something a little _extra_ to entice you. Maybe you needed a _reason_ to help, so I emailed both of you.”

 

“I would’ve helped you, you asshole! All you had to do was ask!” Bellamy’s voice was angry and hard.

 

“How was I supposed to know that?” Roan countered. “I hadn’t seen you in over a year and for whatever reason, you didn’t seem to be interested in your job anymore, turning down cases from your insurance company left and right, only taking ones that would keep you close to your newfound home.”

 

Bellamy was full out glaring now, his eyes narrowed and full of fire.

 

Clarke, meanwhile, didn’t have any idea what the hell was going on. It was too hard to keep up with their accusations.

 

“Well, you have us here now. What is it that you want from us, Roan?”

 

Roan sighed and sat his glass down on the table next to the railing.

 

“This man, TRK, he’s new to the scene. First started coming onto the fencing game around two years ago. Relatively harmless at first but then he slowly escalated.” He looked out over the view of the city. “My mom, she-“ He swallowed. “She made the mistake of thinking he would honor the traditional code of thieves.” He looked back at the two of them. “He didn’t.”

 

Understanding dawned on Bellamy’s face and her heart shattered for the obviously heartbroken man in front of her.

 

“I got wind of his interest in _The Concert_ after it reappeared. I needed you, specifically, and Octavia. This score, Bellamy, it’s big enough to put him away. And possibly lead to additional inquest. It could get him off the streets for good.” He looked briefly at Clarke. “I’m sorry for getting you involved, I know this isn’t a world you’re used to.” He looked back at Bellamy. “But I was desperate.”

 

She could feel the muscles in Bellamy’s back release, the tension slowly easing out of them.

 

She brought her hands up to rub his lower back softly, her arms wrapping around his waist in comfort.

 

“Please help me. Please. And once you’re done, you can go back to whatever little hole in the world you want and I’ll never bother you again.”

 

Bellamy seemed to contemplate his words for a minute before he responded.

 

“I’ll help you, Roan. But Clarke needs to stay out of this.”

 

At that, Clarke removed her hands and cane around to face him, her hands on her hips.

 

“That’s not going to happen, Bellamy.”

 

He glared down at her, sadness edging his gaze.

 

“I’m not going to allow you to continue in this, Clarke. You heard him.” He gestured to Roan. “This guy is dangerous. If anything ever happened to you, I-“

 

“That’s not your decision to make! It’s my life! And I’m going to see this through to the end.” She turned then and charged through the doors back into the ballroom.

 

“Clarke!” She heard Bellamy call after her, but she kept going, searching for a quiet place to let her mind recover from all she had just heard.

 

She finally found the bathroom, ducking inside and moving to the vanity, leaning against it and trying to control her breathing.

 

What was that all about?

 

Bellamy and Roan obviously knew one another. But all of that talk about Bellamy being in America? In Illinois? When?

 

That year he disappeared, had he really been closer to her than she thought? Why didn’t he tell her?

 

_Because he didn’t want you to know._

 

She felt hot, angry tears roll down her face.

 

He really didn’t care.

 

Suddenly, she felt stupid for having any hope that he saw her as more than a passing fancy.

 

She made her way back into the ballroom, begrudgingly looking around for Bellamy.

 

She wanted to go home. She was tired and she was angry and if she didn’t find him in the next sixty seconds, she was just going to leave without him.

 

Not seeing him in the room, she walked toward the terrace once more where she saw that he and Roan were still standing, talking.

 

She moved to open the door in the corner of the balcony to beckon to him but paused when she heard part of their conversation.

 

“I’m sorry, I really am. I thought I was helping, honestly. I know you had to be with O but you were so obviously sad, Murphy and I had to _do_ something. But then you just disappeared off the face of the Earth! What the fuck happened, man?”

 

Bellamy’s voice was quiet when he responded.

 

“I had to get away. I just-“ He paused. “I couldn’t keep doing that to myself. I was just so far gone and it was obviously not returned.”

 

Suddenly a loud laugh from a passing couple from behind her drifted out through her crack in the door and she saw the two of them react. She quickly opened the door and made her way outside, trying to disguise the fact that she had been listening.

 

“Bellamy?” She asked, her voice quiet and vulnerable. “I want to go home.”

 

Bellamy nodded.

 

“I’m sorry.” Roan said again, holding his hand out for him to shake.

 

Bellamy brought his hand up, shaking in solidarity.

 

“I’ll find this guy, Roan. Octavia and I will put him away, I promise. I’m so sorry about your mother.”

 

Roan looked down at the balcony floor.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Bellamy started to walk toward her when Roan called again.

 

“Bellamy!”

 

He turned to face the other man, curious as to what he was going to say.

 

“The only thing I have to go on about this guy is his name. TRK stands for The Rebel King. That’s it. That’s all I know. I’ve never been able to track him down, but I really hope you can.”

 

Bellamy turned without another word and walked back to Clarke, taking her hand in his and pulling her toward the exit, ready to get away.

 

* * *

  
  


_Six Months Ago_

 

_Clarke sighed, leaning back in the fancy rental chair that her mother’s party planner had selected for this particular swaray. It was a ladder back chair and each of the rungs dug into her back uncomfortably._

 

_She reminded herself that she needed to give her mother this feedback so they would use these at any future events. They were pretty, aesthetically speaking, but they were extremely uncomfortable._

 

_Looking around the room at all of the people dressed in their fancy getups, drinking expensive booze, and laughing at jokes that weren’t even a little bit funny, she felt.. sad._

 

_She recalled the last time she had been at this party, a year ago, when she had seen Bellamy. Before he had disappeared the first time, only to return and crush her heart into a thousand tiny pieces._

 

_She still hadn’t seen him._

 

_He’d never showed that day at the coffee shop and she hadn’t heard from him since._

 

_Her heart was still shattered, never wavering in its breaking, mourning the relationship she had thought would come from her interactions with Bellamy._

 

_She had thought he was a near perfect match, their interactions causing her pulse to accelerate with satisfaction._

 

_But he obviously didn’t feel the same, looking for attention with whatever woman would give it to him and moving on easily when he lost interest._

 

_The people continued to mill about, ignoring her brooding at the table in the corner. She had to practically beg her mother to let her sit this far away from the action, but Clarke secretly picked up on the fact that her mother felt sorry for her._

 

_Her mother had asked about Bellamy once, hoping for a more positive response, she was sure, and had been noticeably disappointed to hear about the outcome of their “not date.”_

 

_So here she sat, in the corner, using her mother’s pity to her advantage._

 

_Her eyes suddenly caught movement across the room at the entrance, a familiar head of brown curly hair catching her attention. By the time her attention was drawn, the head was gone._

 

_She frowned._

 

_Now she was imagining him._

 

 _Great._ **_That_ ** _was healthy._

 

_She downed the rest of her glass of champagne and slammed the glass back to the table._

 

_“Woah, now. Take it easy.”_

 

_A voice started and she turned, excitedly, hoping it was Bellamy._

 

_But she knew it wasn’t even as she turned. The voice was too high and whiny._

 

_It was the photographer. The one from the coffee shop. What was his name again? Phillip?_

 

 _He was smiling at her_ **_again._ ** _Did this guy ever change facial expressions?_

 

_“Good to see you again!” He said, his voice even higher in his excitement._

 

_“You too.”_

 

_“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked, gesturing to all the empty chairs at her table._

 

_She thought about it for a second._

 

_She was sitting in the corner of a full room, sulking, imagining things, and pining over someone who she would likely never see again._

 

 _This couldn’t continue. She_ **_needed_ ** _to move on. Get past this._

 

_Looking at the puppy dog expression of this Zac Efron-wannabe, she couldn’t help but notice how different he was from the assured, dark demeanor of the man in her dreams._

 

_And, in that moment... He was perfect._

 

_“Sure, be my guest.”_

 

**_\----_ **

 

The ride back to the hotel room was quiet, a startling contrast to the past few nights where they were more open and giggly, flirty even.

 

If what Roan said was true, Bellamy hadn’t been frequenting Europe at the rate he had led her to believe, but even Roan didn’t know where Bellamy disappeared to over the past year.

 

Seeing him on the news that morning, bragging to the newscaster had been a punch in the gut. She hadn’t seen him in so long, and there he was, back in the city again.

 

 _Her_ city.

 

But what if he had never even left?

 

Their Uber driver dropped them off out in front of the hotel and Clarke stormed inside, not bothering to wait for Bellamy who exited the car second.

 

She made it all the way inside the elevator before he caught up with her, right before the doors closed.

 

His eyes were staring at her from his place beside her on the other side of the elevator car but she refused to give him the satisfaction of returning his gaze.

 

When the bell dinged, she rushed from the elevator toward their room, leaving Bellamy in her wake.

 

“Clarke.” She heard him say after her, but she kept walking as he followed behind her.

 

“Look, I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to have to be around all this anymore! You heard Roan, you could _die!_ ”

 

She huffed as she slid her key through the door and pushed it open, rushing inside and taking her heels off immediately, resisting the urge to turn and throw them at his stupid, pretty face.

 

“You can’t _possibly_ think that’s what I’m upset about!” She threw her shoes in the corner. “UGH. You’re so... “ She couldn’t even find the word to appropriately describe his ass-hattery as she struggled to undo the buttons at her back.

 

“Here, let me help.” He stepped forward to help and she immediately turned and pointed her finger at him.

 

“No! Absolutely not! You just… stay! Right there!”

 

He held his hands up in surrender or defense one, standing still as she backed away from him.

 

“What the fuck, Clarke? What’s _wrong_ with you?”

 

Clarke sputtered.

 

“Me? ME!? What’s wrong with _me?_ What was that even all about, Bellamy? You were in Illinois?? You told me you were traveling!”

 

“I never said that!” Bellamy said, jumping to his defense and taking a step forward. “You assumed that!”

 

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry for assuming. Tell me then, were you really in Illinois all those years? Closeby but never on my radar? Hm? What about the last year, then? Were you in Illinois then too? Cause apparently not even your shady criminal friends could find you then!”

 

Bellamy stared angrily at the wall beside them, his jaw clenching underneath the stubble on his face.

 

“Oh! NOW he has nothing to say! You were all for speaking _for_ me earlier, but now you have nothing to say? UGH!” She all but shouted. “I can’t believe I let this happen. I can’t believe I _trusted_ you! The things I let you _do_ to me and this whole time you obviously didn’t care at all! No! You just stood by in the same city and watched from afar as I pulled my hair out looking for you, getting your little gifts and eating your bullshit up, you-”

 

He crossed the room in one, fell swoop, cutting her off with a kiss so fierce she whimpered and gave in, allowing his tongue to push open her mouth, swallowing her angry words before she could say them.

 

And then she remembered why she was angry and she pushed him back, or tried to at least, but he simply pulled away, gripping her wrists in his hands and pinning them to her sides as she continued to struggle.

 

“Would you- would- uh- stop! Clarke! Stop!” She stilled in his arms. “I never lied to you!”

 

“No! You just kept me in the dark! I feel so stupid!”

 

He kissed her again, sweeter this time, soft, coaxing her into responding.

 

“Please.” He breathed against her lips. “Please. Princess. I promise. I never meant to hurt you, I just-” He kissed her again, pleading with her wordlessly to forgive him.

 

And, in the end, she knew she was powerless to say no. She waited for him for so long, even tried dating someone completely different, all in an effort to forget him. Yet, the second he resurfaced, she was there by his side, following him to the other side of the world under the guise of adventure just to get the chance to be close to him again.

 

He pushed her to the bed behind her, her breath leaving her in a rush as her back bounced against the mattress below her. He quickly followed her down to where her upper body was supported, their legs dangling off the edge of the bed, Bellamy using the leverage he had on the floor to press against her as he continued to devour her, body and soul.

 

She gasped as he released her, his lips moving to her jaw, kissing his way down her neck to the cleavage of her dress, his nose nuzzling there, his heavy breathing heating her skin and causing her breasts to press up against him.

 

His rough hands were suddenly there, sweeping her dress up around her waist, gripping her underwear and jerking them down her legs, leaving them dangling around one ankle.

 

His left hand braced his weight against the bed beside her head, holding him up over her, their pace frantic and filled with the need to be connected as soon as possible.

 

“Oh God!” She gasped as his fingers found her wet core, trailing up and down her lips, spreading her wetness up to her clit where he rubbed in small circles. “Please. Bellamy.” She moaned.

 

Suddenly, his hand was gone and she could hear the clinking sound of his belt being undone and she whimpered in anticipation of finally feeling him inside of her, in spite of the sound of her insecurities screaming inside of her head.

 

“Clarke.” He said lowly, causing her to look up into his eyes.

 

She knew what he was asking in that moment and she nodded her head hurriedly.

 

He owed her this much, this feeling, that for a second, she could pretend that he loved her too. That he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

 

He swore under his breath as she felt him move his dick against her, the head of him gathering her wetness before he started to push inside.

 

Her whimpering grew louder as she felt him breach her entrance, the stretch more than she had ever felt, and she knew instinctively that his dick was definitely more than she had ever taken.

 

“Shhhh, that’s it, it’s okay, Princess, I’ve got you.” His left hand moved from its place on the bed to push her hair back away from her eyes, his weight shifting to his left knee that pressed against the bed and pushed him even further inside of her.

 

His right hand was pushing her left leg up, her knee folding, until it was level with her chest, her shin almost brushing against his chest and her skirts falling to her chest.

 

“Almost there” he consoled as he kept pushing, her channel eagerly opening to allow him entrance, clenching down around his dick and pulling him inside. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

 

The noises she was making were beyond intelligible now, babbling incoherent sounds, begging him to continue.

 

When she could finally feel his pelvis flush against hers she exhaled in relief, her body unused to being filled so completely but soaking up the welcome intrusion, her pussy now leaking out around his cock, readying her for his thrusts.

 

His left hand left her forehead to push her dress out of the way of her chest, exposing the tops of her breasts to his gaze and then he was moving again, pulling out slowly and causing her to glutterly groan at the feeling of loss.

 

“So good.” He moaned into her skin, his forehead resting just above her breasts. “So good.”

 

He pushed in once more, harder this time, and more quickly, before repeating the action again.

 

They found a rhythm, his hand still holding her open, his left hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her torso off the bed so that he was closer to her chest, sucking small, dark places into the skin of her breasts.

 

Her right leg was scrambling for purchase on the floor until he finally removed his hand from her waist and lifted her leg to wrap around his waist so she could pull him harder against her.

 

“Knew it would be like this.” He said softly, his voice breathy and wrecked, so soft she almost didn’t hear him over her own heavy breathing.

 

Her cunt, now accustomed to his size, gripped him harshly each time he withdrew, the sound of their meeting bodies loud in the quiet of the dark hotel room.

 

Suddenly, he hit a spot inside of her that felt so good, it caused her to jolt from the bed and shout at his thrust.

 

“Is that it, Princess? Is that the spot?” He pushed in once more, brushing against that spot and causing her to cry out again, nodding at his question.

 

He picked up his speed then and her orgasm built quickly when his hand dropped between their bodies to rub small circles around her clit.

 

“Ah!” She screamed, her head falling back against the bed and her chest raising up.

 

“That’s it.” He whispered, his voice low and rough. “Come on. Let me show you how good I can be to you, Princess. Let go for me.”

 

Her release rushed over her like a tidal wave, Bellamy thrusting lightly against her, his circles becoming softer as she rode through her orgasm.

 

When she stilled, he stood up completely, pulling her to the end of the bed.

 

She opened her eyes and watched as Bellamy continued to thrust into her, his eyes glued to the place where their bodies met, watching the way his dick was swallowed by her cunt.

 

His eyes found hers then, where she gazed at him through half open lids, already falling closed, sleepy from the exertion they had spent.

 

Bellamy kept thrusting, her sensitive flesh still squeezing, causing her to whimper when a second orgasm, much smaller than the first rippled through her. Her body shook like she had a cold chill and she gasped at the unexpected pleasure.

 

Finally a few thrusts later, Bellamy stilled inside of her, thrusting lightly as he released, his cum tickling her insides.

 

She was almost asleep when he pulled out, but she whimpered all the same.

 

She felt his fingers at her core, gathering their combined released and pressing his fingers just inside of her, massaging her sore entrance as she moaned a high pitch noise.

 

“Shh, I got you.” He whispered, removing his fingers, and she found herself suddenly lifted off the bed, gathered in his arms.

 

He laid her down underneath the covers, disappearing for a moment before he returned with a warm, wet rag that he used to wipe her clean.

 

The next thing she registered was the dip of the bed as he moved in beside of her, pulling the comforter up to cover the both of them. He pulled her into his arms, her back to his front, and cradled her against his warm body. He kissed her shoulder softly, chuckling as she burrowed more deeply into the pillow under her cheek.

 

“Sleep, Princess.” He whispered, his deep voice lulling her back to sleep. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

 

 _We will,_ she added mentally.

 

For as much as she loved Bellamy and as amazing as the night had been, she knew she needed answers.

 

And she was going to make sure he gave them to her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WoooooooOOOOOOOoooo! FINALLY! Don't worry, there's more to come.
> 
> In the meantime, questions were answered, but now there are more questions to be asked!
> 
> Bellamy was in Illinois?? When?? During the six month interlude before their "date?" Before? 
> 
> WHERE DID HE GO FOR THE WHOLE YEAR AND WHY OH WHY DIDN'T HE SHOW UP FOR HIS DATE WITH CLARKE?
> 
> This week was the last week of flashbacks as you know them. Starting next week, the flashbacks change.
> 
> Any guesses as to how?
> 
> As usual, please comment with your guesses! I LOVE THEM! They give me LIFE, people.
> 
> See you next Sunday!


	14. A Shift in Perception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Y'all. So sorry today's update is so late in the day.
> 
> My four month home reno finished today and I'm FINALLY in my new house!
> 
> Praise!
> 
> This week's chapter is brought to you by my filthy, terrible mind where all sorts of depraved Bellarke things happen on a regular basis.
> 
> I would apologize, but I'm not really sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**A Shift in Perception**

 

When she awoke the next morning, it was a wake up unlike any other she had experienced on this trip.

 

The first thing she noticed was that she was no longer in her dress, having apparently lost it in the middle of the night.

 

She could feel the warm, naked skin of Bellamy’s chest against her back, his breathing deep and even. He too, was no longer dressed, and it occurred to her that he must have undressed them both after she fell asleep, as she noticed their clothes in a small pile at the bottom of the bed. Somehow, in his sleep, he had pulled her into a bear hug of sorts, his strong forearms pulling her in close to his torso, as if he was afraid she might try and escape while he slept.

 

At the moment, escaping was the very last thing on Clarke’s mind.

 

She knew that, realistically, she should be upset with herself for caving so easily to her attraction to Bellamy. After all, she had literally just found out that not everything with her traveling companion was as it seemed.

 

And it seemed as if there were many things about Bellamy she didn’t know or understand.

 

All this time, she had assumed that when he disappeared after their meetings, he was traveling. Apparently he had been closer to home than she expected. Which just made her wonder even more about what happened to him after her mother’s party.

 

Not to mention why he showed up to ask her out only to ghost her spectacularly for an entire year.

 

It also appeared that this Roan guy had all the answers. At least all the answers that she was looking for.

 

Somewhere in her musings, she must have lost track of reality because she suddenly felt one of Bellamy’s arms unclasp itself and grasp her hip instead, his fingers digging into the skin there and pulling her even further back into his body.

 

She gasped out loud at the feeling of his hard dick pressing in between her ass cheeks, suddenly recalling just how large Bellamy was and what it felt like the night before as he made her see stars.

 

“Do you know how many times I imagined this?” His deep, hoarse voice whispered into the back of her neck as he pressed a wet kiss there. The hand that had gripped her hip moved upwards over her bare stomach and cupped her breast that was still hanging free from their tryst the night before. “Waking up with you, holding you in my arms?”

 

He pinched her nipple lightly, bringing it further to life, coaxing it away from her body.

 

She whimpered and pressed back against him, willing him to do something about her sudden arousal.

 

“Being able to do this.” His hand found her clit then, rubbing small circles, making her squirm before his fingers found her wet entrance. “Mmm, ready already, Princess?”

 

He pressed two fingers inside of her and she groaned out loud, her heart hammering inside of her chest. Gently, he pushed and pulled, increasing her arousal, making her ready for him.

 

All too soon, his fingers were gone and she wanted to cry in frustration until she felt him raise her leg and wrap it back around his waist, his dick falling between her legs, just grazing her pussy.

 

His right hand moved from underneath her to grip his dick and move it up and down along her slit, coating it in her arousal.

 

When he began to press into her, she moaned and gripped down around him, preparing herself to be stretched once again. She burrowed her face into the pillow beneath her head, closing her eyes and willing herself to relax against the intrusion.

 

He pressed further still, reaching deeper inside of her until she felt him brush up against the innermost part of her and she jerked instinctively.

 

“So good.” Bellamy breathed against her neck as his cock began to withdraw and press back inside of her, shallowly at first, but rapidly increasing depth and speed.

 

His deep strokes cause choked moans to release from her mouth, and she was positive she had never felt something more pleasurable in her life. All she could think in that moment was that if she had thought Bellamy Blake had ruined her for other men before, she definitely would never be able to recover from this.

 

He pressed into her, pushing her over slightly so that she was mostly face down on the bed, her leg still in his grasp as he turned them so that his right knee could get a grip on the bed beneath them, aiding him in his thrusts.

 

Her hands gripped the sheets beside her head and she made sounds of satisfaction into the material as he grunted behind her.

 

She was just on the edge of her completion when she felt Bellamy’s hand move from her leg to her clit, resuming the small circles from earlier. She whimpered as the tingling in her toes started, her release forthcoming.

 

“Come now, Princess. Show me how much you love my cock inside you.”

 

Her eyes closed slowly as she tensed, her breath caught as the relief of her orgasm washed over her. Bellamy slowed behind her, allowing her to ride it out before she felt him release inside of her once again.

 

They collapsed then, a crumple of human flesh on soft sheets. Bellamy’s hand swept up and down her sated flesh, messaging her ass cheek where it was cramping somewhat at the angle of being lifted backward.

 

When he finally started to pull out of her, she winced as her flesh tried to cling to him, to keep him inside.

 

“How are you feeling today?” He asked softly as his fingers came up to her entrance, once again massaging her sore muscles and she was touched by his consideration for her.

 

“I’m good.” She said with a small whimper.

 

She was good. _So_ good.

 

Sure, she was sore, but it was the very best kind of sore. And Bellamy was so attentive. She couldn’t help the small part of her that wondered if he was like this with all of his partners, or if it was just her.

 

“Good.” He slowly got up from the bed then and returned a second later with another rag, cleaning her up, massaging her lips softly.

 

She turned over so she could face him head on and his eyes found hers immediately, his hair falling in front of his gaze somewhat. Reaching up, she brushed it out of the way so she could see him better.

 

“We need to talk about this eventually, you know.” She said softly, her eyes unwavering in their determination.

 

He nodded, his hand coming up to hold her own against his face.

 

“I know.”

 

\----

 

**_3 Years Ago_ **

 

_Reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror so it was facing in his direction, Bellamy tried to make his hair cooperate before he entered the home._

 

 _He always hated meeting new clients, but there was something especially annerving about meeting a fucking_ **_governor._ **

 

_When he had gotten the notice from his insurance company, he had almost turned the job down. It was way more high profile than he was used to accepting, but he needed the money. Octavia may have graduated already and had a steady job, but the ever creeping anxiety of not being able to take care of her should something happened still lingered in his mind._

 

_He made his way up the sweeping steps of the entrance and rung the doorbell, expecting hired help to answer, but was pleasantly surprised when it was answered by the governor and her husband, themselves._

 

_The meeting went relatively routine. He got all the information he needed on the artwork that was stolen during the break in and found that the Griffins were actually really nice people._

 

_Which was totally unusual for his line of work. He was used to being introduced to people who needed his help that treated him like he was disposable, not even really human. Just a means to an end. A way to recover their wealth._

 

_And it was with this line of thought, a realization that their are good, rich people in the world, that he left their meeting in the study with a newfound sense of respect for these people._

 

_As he walked down the halls of the home, back toward the entrance from which he came, he could see the wealth on the walls, in the rooms he passed. Things that he could never afford were on display, but he found that he didn’t resent these people as much as he did others._

 

_A noise caught his attention. It was smile, a chuckle. Light and soft, and he probably wouldn’t have heard it at all if the home hadn’t been extremely quiet._

 

_He stopped walking and moved toward where the sound came from, a set of double doors with wooden etchings carved into the material._

 

_One was slightly open so he pushed it open a tad further and peeked inside._

 

_It was a woman._

 

_She was sitting cross legged in a rather comfortable looking chair, a book in her lap, and her hair hanging in front of her face as she leaned over to read._

 

_He couldn’t even see her face but he found himself intrigued. She was obviously a member of the family, her blonde hair a dead match to the elder Griffith patriarch’s. So engrossed in her book, she didn’t even notice that he was there, watching her._

 

_In spite of the fact that he should probably turn and walk away, he found himself doing the exact opposite._

 

_Opening the doors, he made his way inside, leaning on the end of the bookshelf just inside the door, waiting for her to notice him._

 

_“Well, that was much faster than anticipated!” She said brightly, her head still down as she marked her place in her book._

 

_When she finally looked up, she was obviously expecting to see someone else because her bright smile fell somewhat and a curious look replaced it instead._

 

_She was beautiful._

 

_Perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever come across, and he had come across many his day. He had traveled the world and yet, her perfect blue eyes staring up at him, soft with uncertainty, made him want to take her into his arms and keep her safe from all harm._

 

_She was beginning to flush, her face darkening somewhat as she raked her eyes down his body._

 

_He couldn’t help the smirk that made its way to his face._

 

_He knew that look._

 

_But the way she blushed intrigued him. She was different, that much he could tell and he wanted to know exactly how._

 

_He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face._

 

_“Well, hello there.” The girl seemed hesitant toward him. “I’m Bellamy Blake.”_

 

_She considered him for a moment before she responded._

 

_“That’s interesting. And what can I do for you, Bellamy Blake?”_

 

_She had a sardonic tone to her words, but he couldn’t seem to stop grinning._

 

_“Well, technically, I’m here to help you.” He shrugged, pushing off the bookcase and taking a few steps forward. “I work for the insurance company.”_

 

_He watched her eyebrows shoot up._

 

 _“So you’re here to help my parents, then.” She sat the book down on the tables beside her and stood, obviously not wanting to be on a lower level than his oncoming presence. “You know, you don’t really_ **_look_ ** _like an insurance guy.”_

 

_He laughed._

 

_“You look every inch the Princess, though.”_

 

_Her face soured at the name._

 

_“I’m not a Princess.” Her voice was unforgiving._

 

_He continued smiling as he moved even closer, now only a few feet away from where she stood._

 

_“Big house, powerful parents, huge library…” He gestured to the books lining the tall walls, floor to ceiling. “You’re straight from a Disney movie.”_

 

_She was outright glaring at him now and how she didn’t realize that he was just trying to get her attention, he wasn’t sure._

 

_“Well it’s a good thing that you never have to see me again after today then, isn’t it?”_

 

_Suddenly, his heart crashed and the thought of never seeing this beautiful, fiery woman again made him unbearably sad._

 

_“I wouldn’t count on that, Princess.”_

 

_——_

 

Clarke watched from her place in the cafe window as Bellamy gestured with his hands as he talked on the phone.

 

He had told her he had a few phone calls to make before they ordered breakfast so she elected to stay seated while he got whatever information he needed from whoever he needed it from.

 

They had pretty much acknowledged at this point that there was something happening between the two of them. What that was, she wasn’t sure, but she knew that Bellamy felt something maybe just as strong for her as she did for him.

 

She wanted to have something special with Bellamy and she knew they needed to talk about their past before that could happen, but they didn’t seem to have a lot of time.

 

Now that they had a name to go off of for the painting, they were back on the hunt. And when they were chasing down leads and calling on criminals, they didn’t really have the block of time they needed to have the conversation that was necessary.

 

So she was content to know that right then, at that moment, she and Bellamy were on the same page and wanted the same thing.

 

He was still gesturing, but he had started pacing back and forth now and seemed pretty frustrated as he ran his hands through his hair.

 

He seemed to be wrapping up the conversation, though, because he was suddenly walking toward the door and pulling the phone away from his ear.

 

“Who was that?” She asked curiously as he took his seat across the table from her.

 

“Octavia.” He flagged down the server and ordered his drink. “She said the name TRK aka The Rebel King has definitely been flagged on their radar, but with no evidence to tie him to any major criminal activity, they haven’t been investigating him too closely.”

 

The server placed the drink on the table and Clarke bit down on her bottom lip.

 

“So, what are we going to do?” She asked anxiously. She really didn’t want this to be the end of their adventure.

 

And she was slowly realizing that that had nothing to do with finding the stupid painting and everything to do with potentially being separated from Bellamy again.

 

“Well, we’ll do what I always do when I come to a dead end and Octavia isn’t readily available to help me.” He took a sip of his drink. “We’ll go to the archives.”

 

Her face contorted into one of confusion.

 

“The archives?”

 

He chuckled as he looked over the menu, trying to decide what to eat for breakfast. His eyes briefly flickered up to her confused expression and he smiled.

 

“Yeah. The archives. Like, the newspaper?”

 

“The newspaper?” She tried to keep the incredulous tone from her voice, but failed. “There are still newspaper archives in the world?”

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes playfully and set his menu on the counter top.

 

“Careful, Princess, your name is showing.”

 

She glared at him balefully.

 

“Yes, there are still archives. At the library. Except now they’re more efficient than ever thanks to technology. Much better than Google. Especially for local news.”

 

She nodded and tapped her fingers on the tabletop nervously before he reached over and placed his hand over hers.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Princess. We’ll find him.”

 

She smiled slightly, but she knew he was right. They would find him.

 

And that was exactly what she was worried about.

  


\----

 

**_2.5 Years Ago_ **

 

_It had been almost six months since he’d seen her last._

 

_The last day he had was when he returned her mother’s painting to the estate, their thanks evident from the tears on their faces._

 

_She stood in the background as her mother almost tackle-hugged him to the ground, thanking him for bringing her grandmother’s painting back._

 

_He watched her over her mother’s shoulder and smirked._

 

_They’d had several interactions after that first one, all as heated and spark-fueled as the first._

 

_He knew he wanted to ask her out, but he was entirely unsure as to how to go about that without being inappropriate._

 

_So he put it off and decided to wait for the right time._

 

_And by that, he meant when he could get the balls to ask._

 

_It never even occurred to him that he didn’t have any way to contact her until after he left that day._

 

_So there he was, four months later, upset with himself for not getting the information he needed from her before he left._

 

_He was in Ireland visiting Murphy when he vowed that as soon as he returned stateside, he would do something about it._

 

_Although, he felt like if he didn’t stop drunkenly rambling to Murphy about how amazing she was every time they went out, Murphy was going to throw his ass out of the country early._

 

_In the end, it was Octavia who gave him a way back in._

 

_“Yeah, so Lincoln will be staying in the states a little longer. Apparently the second curator is planning to leave so he’s helping cover some work and look for a replacement. He really wants the assistant curator to get it. Apparently, she’s very talented and Lincoln insists she didn’t get the job just because she’s the governor’s daughter.”_

 

_At that, Bellamy sat up straight on Murphy’s couch._

 

_“Governor’s daughter? As in Clarke?”_

 

_He heard the silence on the other end of the line and silently cursed himself for his misstep._

 

_“Bellamy, why do you know the governor’s daughter?”_

 

_He scratched the back of his head nervously, hoping he could talk his way out of this one._

 

_“Um, I just helped recover a painting for her mother, that’s all.”_

 

_Obviously, Octavia wasn’t fooled._

 

_“So you recovered a painting for the governor and somehow, you are now on a first name basis with the first daughter of Illinois? Yeah, I don’t think so.”_

 

_He rolled his eyes._

 

_“We talked a few times.”_

 

_“Sure you did.” His sister drawled. “Well, Lincoln likes her, so that’s all I need to know about her. He says she’s struggling, though. Something about being too young and not having a network, so it’s hard for her to find pieces for the museum.”_

 

_Bellamy’s brain started working, thinking about this situation._

 

_“Octavia, I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”_

 

_“Sure big bro, talk to you soon.” He was about to hang up when she spoke again. “And don’t go breaking the heart of the governor’s daughter, please. You don’t need more attention drawn to you, local celebrity.”_

 

_He clicked the button to end the call._

 

\----

 

Turns out the library he was referring to was a very large one, multiple stories tall with walls that were teaming with books for them to peruse.

 

Unfortunately, there was no time for that, so Clarke found herself salivating for them from afar, running her fingers along the spines as they passed.

 

They were walking with purpose toward where she could only assume the archives were housed.

 

When they got to the correct floor, Bellamy walked up to the woman at the circulation desk and put on his best charming smile.

 

“We’re here to visit the archives.” He said, his voice equally charming.

 

The woman looked at him with a very unamused smile and Clarke couldn’t help but smirk at the floor. It was so rare to see someone who was so unturned by Bellamy’s charm and looks.

 

“The time blocks are for one hour.” She turned a keypad for Bellamy to input his information. “That means you have _one hour._ ”

 

Her emphasis of the words almost made Clarke chuckle, but she tried to hold it in so as not to make the woman upset with them.

 

“Absolutely. Thank you so much.” Bellamy winked, in spite of the woman’s lack of interest and grabbed Clarke’s hand, pulling her along behind him down a hallway toward where she could only assume the archives rested.

 

“I’m not sure why she’s so stringent on the one hour rule. No one uses these fucking things.” He grumbled under his breath and Clarke laughed.

 

“You’re just angry that there’s a woman on this Earth who is immune to your sexiness.”

 

Suddenly, she found herself pressed up against the wall they had been walking beside and she gasped as the breath was temporarily knocked from her chest.

 

“But you’re not, are you Princess?” He breathed, his fingers trailing lightly down the side of her face to her lips where he pressed down on her lower lip, exposing her bottom teeth.

 

She shook her head, her head fogging up and her eyes going hazy.

 

His nose trailed along the skin of her neck and he left a wet kiss on top of her collarbone.

 

Pulling away, he looked into her eyes.

 

“Then that’s all that matters.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips, drinking in her moan and then he was pulling her away again, down the hallway in the dark.

 

She didn’t know how he did that, but it made her fucking dizzy as shit. One minute, they were hastily walking toward something boring and academic and the next she was _this_ close to begging him to fuck her in the middle of a public library.

 

They finally reached a door marked “Archives” and he leaned forward, punched in some code, and finally turned the knob to push the door open.

 

He gestured for her to enter ahead of him and then he closed the door, locking it behind him.

 

She raised her eyebrow at the action and he just shrugged.

 

“Don’t exactly want to be interrupted, but I also don’t think anyone will be this way. Like I said, no one uses these.” He nodded at the computers along the wall.

 

There were two of them and both had papers taped to the desk beside them that, open glancing at them, Clarke noted outlined directions on how to use them.

 

Bellamy didn’t seem to need the directions, as he sat down and immediately started typing away, his eyes flickering left and right across the page.

 

“You can join me if you’d like.” He motioned to the computer beside him and she shook her head slightly, shaking herself out of her daze of watching him and sat down in the chair in front of the second computer.

 

The screen popped up with an intricate system of search boxes, and even though she frequently worked around and with computers, the sheer number of boxes made her head swim when combined with the fact that all of them were labeled in Italian.

 

Bellamy pointed to a small button at the bottom of the screen.

 

“If you click here you can change the language to English.”

 

She clicked on the button he showed her and it popped up a list of languages.

 

Once she had changed the language to her own, it seemed much more manageable.

 

“I will search for The Rebel King, specifically. You can look for TRK and maybe any related thefts in the country and any neighboring countries.”

 

She nodded and got to work. After a while, she felt like her eyes were growing cross. Bellamy was right, of course. This system was much better than she had anticipated it being. It simultaneously searched online and paper publications, both local and international.

 

As she scrolled through, she came across several thefts that could potentially be the same person, all high profile art thefts. Specifically, there seemed to be a string of Vermeer paintings going missing.

 

Clarke latched on to this small lead and ran with it, expanding her search beyond Italy and the surrounding countries.

 

After a while, it became apparent that it was definitely a pattern.

 

“Bellamy” She murmured, the quiet of the room almost swallowing her small voice.

 

“Hm?” He said in return, his eyes still glued to his screen.

 

“I think I’ve found something.”

 

Bellamy’s demeanor instantly changed, his eyes finding hers first before he moved over to her space, leaning over her shoulder, his chest pressed against her back as he took in her screen.

 

“It’s Vermeer.” She said, her voice soft still. “A TON of Vermeer. All gone missing in the past year. I think they might all be the work of TKR.”

 

It had to be, right? How else could you explain _fourteen_ missing Vermeer paintings and the fact that this one, the most famous missing one of them all suddenly resurfaced after all this time?

 

Almost like _someone_ had put out the word that he was interested in buying up any and all Vermeer pieces.

 

“Maybe.” Bellamy agreed, his head nodding slightly against her shoulder. “We need more.”

 

He went back to his computer, his fingers flying across the keys, new inspiration driving his search.

 

Five minutes later, he spoke once more.

 

“Here.” He pointed to his screen.

 

Looking over, she saw that it was a flyer of some sort. An announcement of a museum exhibit. The center of which was The Astronomer by Vermeer, which was on loan from the Louvre.

 

“It’s opening this weekend. In Spain.” He turned toward her then, his eyes alight with excitement. “And I’ll bet, Princess, that if you’re right, that is where we will find TRK as well.”

 

* * *

  
  


After they found their next step, Bellamy shut down both their desktops and pulled Clarke out of the room, turning and putting in his code once more.

 

“Ten minutes to spare.” He said with a smirk, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

 

She smiled slightly as he started to pull her along the hall.

 

It only took a few minutes for Clarke to realize that he wasn’t guiding her back to the entrance.

 

“Bellamy” She whispered, looking around at the people sitting at large desks, reading from ancient tomes. “Where the hell are we going?”

 

Bellamy turned to look back at her, a mischievous grin on his face.

 

“My favorite part of this museum.” He led her around a few more corners, the two of them going further and further back toward a dark part of the museum, the books growing older and older.

 

“And where would that be? A tomb? Because it’s awfully dark and cold back this way. And I haven’t seen a person in the past four minutes.”

 

She could hear him chuckle, even as he kept walking.

 

“Exactly.”

 

She wanted to say she didn’t like the sound of that but then she would be lying.

 

Thirty seconds later, he finally found where he was looking for, as he turned into a little alcove and pulled her in with him, her back pressed against the shelves of books on the bookcase behind her.

 

“Bellamy.” She whispered. “You can’t be serious.”

 

His smirk was painfully visible, even in the dimness of this area, and he reached down, his hand dipping inside the athletic leggings she had worn.

 

“Why’s that, Princess? Not ready for me?”

 

Before she could even deny it, his fingers reached her pussy, gliding smoothly through her arousal, spreading it over the lips of her cunt.

 

She wanted to curse herself, but she had honestly been wet since their tryst in the hallway earlier and sitting alone with him in a dark room didn’t exactly help matters. She had been waiting for him to reach over and do something in the locked room of the archives, but it never came and she had almost been disappointed.

 

Whimpering, she brought her hands up to brace herself on his shoulders.

 

“That’s what I thought.” He said smugly and his hand retreated.

 

She held back her growl of disappointment but he suddenly hooked his fingers into the sides of her leggings and dragged them down her legs, placing kisses into her thighs as he went.

 

“We’ll have to make this quick, Princess. It looks empty now, but you never know when someone will walk around that corner.” He nodded toward the entrance of the aisle they were in and she nodded in agreement.

 

He reached down and unbuckled his pants, pulling his dick out from the opening he created, stroking it lightly, even though he was already hard.

 

She reached down to move his hand, replacing it with her own and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her as she felt how big and hot he felt in her hand.

 

“You like that, Princess?”

 

She nodded, biting down on her body lip.

 

“Well, I won’t keep it from you any longer then.” He smirked, lifting her up in his arms, and she squeaked in surprise when he grabbed her under the ass and hauled her up onto one of the narrow bookshelves behind them.

 

“Shh, you know how this goes. Gotta stay quiet.”

 

Before Bellamy, she could’ve responded that, no, she didn’t know how it went, but now, she was practically an exhibitionist.

 

She leaned her head back against the shelf behind her, eyes closing as she attempted to concentrate on staying quiet. It was especially hard as he pressed inside of her, his dick stretching her wide, in spite of the fact that she’d had him inside of her three times in the past twenty four hours now.

 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, his head dropping into the crook of her shoulder. “Always feel so good, Princess.”

 

She whimpered as he continued pressing until he was all the way inside of her, his balls pressing up against her below her entrance.

 

Pulling out, she had to blow out her breath in order to stop herself from crying out, urging him to fill her once more.

 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll give you what you want.” He pushed back inside, his hips snapping against hers, and then picked up his pace, thrusting so hard against her each time that the books on the shelves behind her rattled on the wood.

 

Her hands came up to clamp down on the shelves above her head, trying to give herself enough leverage to meet his thrusts.

 

His hands moved then from her ass to her legs, lifting them up and extending them behind him, urging her to rest her feet on the shelves across the aisle.

 

This changed the angle dramatically and Clarke accidentally cried out, lifting herself up and down, meeting him.

 

He sped up then and Clarke was certain he was trying to make her come as fast as humanly possible before she accidentally let the librarians on to what they were doing.

 

Her walls were rapidly closing in, squeezing Bellamy so hard, he was finding it harder to pull out.

 

“Come on.” He whispered, his hand moving down to rub her clit. “Come on my dick, Princess. Let me feel how much you want me.”

 

She cried out again as she tumbled over the edge, her toes curling in her shoes that were pressing into the shelves behind him.

 

He thrust three more times and then emptied himself, pumping slowly, drawing his orgasm out.

 

When he finished, he slowly pulled away from where he had burrowed his face in her neck and sat her back on the floor, withdrawing at the same time.

 

She couldn’t help the small whimper she made as he withdrew and he shushed her.

 

“Don’t get us caught now that we’ve finished, sweetheart.” His hand reached down, fingers gathering up their mixed release from where it was leaking out of her and brought it up to her lips, pushing them into her mouth for her to consume. “I’ll never get tired of that.” He whispered. “My cum inside of you.”

 

Her eyes were heavy, watching him as he tucked himself back inside his pants before squatting to the floor, pulling her leggings up her legs and over her swollen pussy.

 

She could feel their mixed arousal leaking out onto the material and she thanked her lucky stars the leggings were black and that her sweatshirt covered the tops of her thighs.

 

“Think you can make it back to the hotel like that?” He asked, genuinely wanting to make sure she was comfortable.

 

She nodded her head and he smiled, reaching out to take her hand and pulling her back up the hall from which they came.

 

\----

 

**_2.5 Years Ago_ **

 

_There she was._

 

_After all this time, she was sitting right in front of him._

 

_Well, across the room, but still, much closer than she had been in a long time._

 

_She was still just as beautiful as the last time too, and he was pleased that he hadn’t been exaggerating in his own mind._

 

_She was looking down, forlorn, her nails chipping away at the table she sat at in the little coffee shop._

 

_He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away all of her problems._

 

_But he would settle for actually solving them._

 

_When he saw her end the phone call, he walked across the room and plopped down in the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation._

 

_“Excuse me!” She instinctively squealed._

 

_When she looked and saw him, her face went from guarded to amused._

 

_“Bellamy.”_

 

_He could tell she was trying to sound annoyed, but she wasn’t quite convincing enough._

 

_“Princess.” He smirked at the scowl that brought to her face._

 

_“Can I help you?” She asked him and he thought about how to answer._

 

 _This was it. This was his chance to show her how good he could be to her._ **_For_ ** _her. How he could take care of her._

 

_“No, but I think I can help you.” He grinned, excited at the prospect of showing her._

 

_She considered him for a moment._

 

_“I haven’t seen you in almost six months, and here you are out of nowhere offering your assistance to unknown problems?” He watched her smile become soft but curious. “And how is it that you know I even need help with anything?”_

 

 _He knew he couldn’t rat out Lincoln, he was an undercover agent, after all, and he_ **_definitely_ ** _couldn’t tell her about Octavia. He looked over at the wall as he considered how best to respond._

 

_“Well, maybe it’s because half the coffee shop just heard about your issues acquiring a piece for the upcoming Renaissance exhibit.”_

 

_It was only a half lie. She really had been talking pretty loudly. No need telling her he already knew about her issues._

 

_She studied him carefully, her expression guarded and unsure._

 

_“Or do you not want my help?” He offered, giving her an out. He didn’t want to force his presence on her, after all._

 

_The deepest part of his soul cringed in the corner a little, praying she didn’t say no._

 

_He really hoped she didn’t say no._

 

_“How is it you plan to help me, exactly?”_

 

_He smiled at that, pleased she was giving him a shot._

 

_Suddenly, he saw their lives, the road ahead. He would help her build her network, woo her, ask her out, date her,_

 

_He could see it all._

 

_“I think you will find, Princess” He leaned forward over the table, his knee brushing against hers underneath its surface and his fingers lightly finding her kneecap. “That I’m exactly what you need.”_

 

_He watched her gulp and smiled a genuine smile._

 

_Oh yeah._

 

_He could see it all._

 

\----

 

On their way back to the hotel, Bellamy kept her hand in his.

 

It was nice, the two of them openly showing their affection for one another.

 

It seemed like the perfect time to bring up their shared history.

 

“Why were you in Illinois?” She asked bluntly, watching his face for his reaction to the question.

 

He sighed and kept looking ahead, his eyes focused on the distance beyond them.

 

“It’s where the jobs were, Clarke.”

 

She wanted to scream at him.

 

That couldn’t be it, his only answer.

 

“But I never saw you.”

 

He smiled then, turning to look at her.

 

“Sure you did, you saw what I did _for_ you.”

 

_You could’ve done that from anywhere. But you didn’t._

 

She saw that she was getting nowhere and decided to shelve the conversation for now. Maybe he wasn’t mentioning anything on purpose.

 

There had to be a reason.

 

When they got back to the hotel later that evening, he pulled her in for a goodnight kiss before he left to make some calls to Murphy and Miller and she watched him walk out of the room sadly.

 

They were leaving for Spain the next day, and before they left, there was something she wanted to do.

 

Pulling out her phone, she shot an email to the address whose face she now knew it belonged to.

 

**CGriffin@Ark.Org**

 

**We’re leaving tomorrow. I need to chat.**

 

She had only sat the phone down for five minutes when it buzzed with a response.

 

**Azgnum2@Gmail.com**

 

**152 Gray Street. 1 Hour.**

 

She looked up at the door where Bellamy had disappeared and decided against telling him.

 

She would be back before he even realized she was gone.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Clarke.
> 
> Oh, OH Clarke.
> 
> Also, how bout those flashbacks?
> 
> Who's ready to fill in some Bellamy-sized holes in the plot???!!!
> 
> We're nearing the endgame people. It is rapidly approaching. Prepare yourselves.
> 
> Here we gooooo!
> 
> See you next Sunday!


	15. A Close Call, A Closer Miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOSH I AM SO SORRY.
> 
> I know I posted on Twitter it would be 15 minutes but something weird is going on with AO3 formatting and that took FOREVER.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, it is VERY plot heavy. You may want to get out your clue notebook to keep up with all the plot points and clues I drop here!
> 
> See you on the flip side! ;)

**A Close Call, A Closer Miss**

 

**2.5 Years Ago**

 

_He knew it was stupid to glare at the fucking newspaper but as it crumbled up in his fist, he couldn’t really help his instinctual reaction._

 

_He was being irrational._

 

_As he stared down at the pages of the Gossip section at Clarke and her friend’s faces, he knew that he really didn’t have any_ **_claim_ ** _over her anyways. Even if these rags didn’t print the truth half of the time._

 

_“You know, it’s pointless to get all upset about this. You didn’t even tell her it was you who got that fucking painting sent to the museum in the first place. For all she knows, it could be some other lame-o.” Octavia called from her place on Lincoln’s couch._

 

_Rolling his eyes, he turned away from the offensive article to face his sister instead._

 

_“She knows it’s me. I told her I would help her. I helped. Who the fuck else would it be?”_

 

_Octavia rolled her eyes in return._

 

_“Fine, say she does know it’s you. She has absolutely no way of contacting you. You’re the world’s worst at trying to woo this chick. Not to mention, I’ve seen her in the Gossip section with that guy plenty of times. He’s the Lieutenant Governor’s son, so they’re probably just good friends.”_

 

_He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw._

 

_“Listen. The only thing I know to tell you is this: If you want her attention, that’s cool, but you’ve gotta follow through. Go_ **_see_ ** _her, you idiot.”_

 

_Sighing, he leaned back on the island behind him, his palms digging into the granite of the countertops._

 

_She was right, of course._

 

_He needed to go see her._

 

_His nerves kicked up a notch._

  


_\----_

 

_He spoke to Jackson briefly before he made his way to her office. He had done work for the museum before Clarke was even hired there, and it was always to his benefit to stay on good terms with the head honcho._

 

_He came to her door, which was wide open, and leaned against the wood of the doorframe._

 

_He hoped he looked cool and confident and not as nervous as he felt._

 

_She was very engrossed in her thoughts, staring at the newspaper on her desk, and from where he was standing, he could see that it was the same Gossip article he had been glaring at that very morning._

 

_“And here I thought my help would win you over.”_

 

_She startled so much that she almost jumped from her seat as she turned at the sound of his voice._

 

_He couldn’t help the small smirk that rose to his lips, in spite of his poor mood._

 

_He supposed that was just the effect she had on him._

 

_“Bellamy” She breathed out. “You scared me.”_

 

_He laughed because well, obviously he had, but he entered the room either way and sat down in one of her guest chairs._

 

_“So sorry, Princess, I’ll make sure to have someone announce my arrival next time.”_

 

_The glare she sent his way only made him smile harder._

 

_“I would say something snarky, but I’m glad you’re here, actually.”_

 

_He sat up in his chair by instinct._

 

_She was glad he was here? Really?_

 

_He mentally noted that he needed to try harder not to let his obvious excitement show._

 

_“Oh?” He asked, his hands gripping the armrests in anticipation._

 

_She nodded her head._

 

_“Yes, I’ve been trying to find a way to contact you in order thank you for your help.”_

 

_He inwardly cursed himself. Octavia had been right, after all. Why hadn’t he given her his number?_

 

_Covering his own blunder with a smile, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees._

 

_“It was my pleasure, of course. I promised you I would.”_

 

_She smiled slightly and he wanted to reach out and touch her, push the hair out of her eyes so that he could see her face even better._

 

_“Yes, you did, but you could’ve backed out. We don’t really know each other all that well, after all.”_

 

**_I want to change that._ **

 

_The thought came unbidden as he sat, looking at her across the wooden surface._

 

_“Well, now you know. I’m a man of my word.”_

 

_He sat up in his chair again, willing himself not to just spill his guts and promise her the world, if she would just give him the chance to._

 

_He wasn’t even sure where these feelings for her were coming from. She was right, they barely knew one another, but there was just something about her that made him want to do something_ **_epic._ **

 

_When she smiled this time, it was a full smile and he couldn’t help but grin in response._

 

_“I see that now. I hope we will be able to work together again soon?”_

 

_She asked it as a question and Bellamy had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at her obliviousness._

 

_Of course he wanted to see her again._

 

_Even if it was in a work context._

 

_He leaned in, his eyes boring into hers, willing her to see his sincerity._

 

_“I told you, Princess. I’m exactly what you need.”_

 

_Her infamous blush returned and his eyes drifted down, following it all the way to her chest, where it stopped at her neckline. What he wouldn’t give to see where it really stopped._

 

_“Maybe so. Either way, I would like the opportunity to thank you. Would you like to go for coffee after I get off work?”_

 

_His relief and happiness startled even himself as he smiled._

 

_“Absolutely.”_

 

_\----_

 

_They were seated outside at some little cafe overlooking the Chicago River and Bellamy could imagine this being their “everyday.”_

 

_Octavia was in Illinois half the time with Lincoln, now that he was full time undercover for the art recovery team._

 

_He loved traveling abroad, seeing all of the friends he had made all over the world, but lately he was starting to imagine a life settled down._

 

_It was new, this thought, and he_ **_had_ ** _to make the connection that it probably had more than a little to do with the beautiful blonde woman sitting across from him._

 

_She was smiling at some stupid joke he had just made about not doing anything illegal for her painting._

 

_He really hadn’t needed to for this particular piece. There were people everywhere who adored him, thanks to his unusually high dose of innate charisma. This time, it had been as simple as calling in a favor._

 

_“Well, I really do appreciate it. My boss won’t stop talking about it.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Actually, I was just thinking earlier that I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to top this.” She laughed lightly and Bellamy just smiled at the sound._

 

_Unable to resist any longer, he leaned over the table, closer to her, his knees brushing against hers and he watched her breath hitch at the unexpected closeness._

 

_Bringing his hand down to rest on top of hers on the table, he looked at her seriously._

 

_“Well, you know, I have plenty more promises I can make where that one came from.”_

 

_He watched her eyes flicker to their joined hands and her throat bob as she swallowed._

 

**_That’s it._ ** _He thought._ **_Give it a shot, Princess._ **

 

_Her eyes met his once more, nervous._

 

_“I couldn’t ask that of you.” She whispered, and he strained to hear her._

 

_“You wouldn’t have to, Princess.” He returned, his voice low and his eyes silently communicating his intent._

 

\----

 

She couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder as she made her way down the street.

 

The road she was on wasn’t _sketchy_ , per say, but it definitely wasn’t the well-lit pathways she was used to traveling these days.

 

She looked at her phone again to confirm the address when she arrived at a smokey little hole-in-the-wall type bar.

 

_This is where Roan wants to meet? Couldn’t we have met at a well-lit Starbucks?_

 

She sighed deeply, leaning forward and pulling the door open before making her way inside.

 

The bar was pretty deserted aside from the dude sitting at the bar itself, who was so wasted, his face was pressed into the wood of the bartop. The bartender was cleaning glasses and replacing them on the lit-up wall behind him.

 

Clarke could see why Roan would want to meet here, really. There definitely wouldn’t be anyone around to hear their conversation.

 

_Or hear you scream._

 

She silently berated herself for her own negative thoughts before she looked around the seating area, noting that Roan was seated in the booth in the back corner, his back facing her as he looked down at his phone.

 

_Last chance, Clarke. Text Bellamy. Tell him where you’re at._

 

She ignored her inner voice of reason and made her way toward Roan instead.

 

When she sat down across from him, he looked up under his lashes at her with an amused grin on his face.

 

“Well, well. She actually showed.” He picked up the glass he was nursing from the table and tipped it back slightly, sipping his drink, taking his time. “I’m surprised, I won’t lie.”

 

She pursed her lips in annoyance.

 

“Yes, well. We’re leaving town tomorrow and I need answers before we do.”

 

His eyebrow raised in interest.

 

“Answers? Well, I shall see what I have to offer, but I’m not sure I necessarily have the information that you’re looking for.”

 

She knew this was a long shot, but he seemed to know so much more about Bellamy and the “dark years” than she did.

 

“I need to know where Bellamy has been for the last year and a half. What he’s been up to.”

 

His looked morphed into one of surprise at that and she couldn’t help but huff.

 

“He has been… less than forthcoming with information in that realm, and I just want to know _why_ he’s hiding this from me. If it’s a… a dealbreaker.”

 

Roan’s eyebrow dropped and he leaned back against the booth, his arms crossed over his huge chest. He seemed entirely unamused.

 

“A dealbreaker? Sweetheart, I’ve seen the way the two of you devour one another with your eyes alone. Nothing is going to break that deal.”

 

She wanted to deny it, but she knew he was right. Bellamy could be the greatest undercover underworld criminal the world and she would still fall all over herself for him.

 

“But, if you want answers, I can’t begrudge you that.” He leaned forward then, his elbows resting on the table. He took a sip of his drink as he prepared to begin his story. When he sat it back down, he started.

 

“It was about a year ago when I first knew I needed Bellamy’s help. This TRK guy had been wreaking havoc on Europe for almost a year. At that time, we didn’t know his name. He was some ‘unknown’ entity, taking what he wanted and getting rid of whoever stood in his way.”

 

He glared down at the table.

 

“I was visiting Murphy in his neck of the woods when he let it slip that Bellamy was hung up on some girl in America. Apparently for a while too, and every time he came to visit him, he would get drunk and go on and on about her.”

 

She felt her heart flutter inside her chest at the thought of Bellamy telling someone about her. She reanalyzed all of her interactions with Murphy, silently in her head, and suddenly some things started to make sense.

 

“That’s when it hit me -- **_Bellamy_ ** . I could ask Bellamy to help me track this fucker down. So I went to America, looking for him in Illinois, showed up at Octavia’s door, even. Apparently he was on a job. Somewhere up near Rockford. She said she didn’t know how willing he would be to help me though. She hadn’t completely recovered at that point and _apparently_ Bellamy was a little under the weather, mooning over some girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

 

There was so much to process in what he just said, her mind was spinning.

 

_Octavia_ was in Illinois? Recovered? What did he mean? Was she hurt?

 

And finally, _wouldn’t give him the time of day?_

 

He was the one who ran out on her at that party, not the other way around.

 

“So, me being the brilliant guy that I am deduced that hey, maybe I could get Bellamy his girl and then he’d feel better and help me out.” He shrugged. “So I maybe stalked you a little, trying to figure out a way to get you to trust me, when one day, I heard you talking to some lady about finding Bellamy. I couldn’t believe my luck, really. You wanted to see him too, it seemed so easy. So I… _arranged_ for that to happen.”

 

Suddenly, she remembered the email. How it had seemed like fate that she got an email from an investigator about finding missing loved ones.

 

How she had never actually heard back from them or paid them, and yet Bellamy had shown up practically at her doorstep.

 

She cursed under her breath at her own stupidity.

 

“Yesh, you’re welcome, by the way. But as it turns out, the two of you just can’t help yourselves when it comes to fucking things up and miscommunicating.” He rolled his eyes. “So, suddenly, you two screwed things up again, and Bellamy was gone. Vanished off the face of the Earth. Not even Octavia knew where he was.”

 

Clarke had a hard time believing that. Bellamy and Octavia were more connected than any siblings she had ever met. Was it really possible that Octavia didn’t know where Bellamy went?

 

“While he was gone, things were becoming more frantic than ever. “The Rebel King” started to pop up all over the place, thieving his way across the continent. At first, no one made the connection that this was the same guy who had been taking no prisoners for the last two years, but then..”

 

He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed down obvious emotion.

 

“But then my mother got in the way. I came home to a voicemail from some voice I had never heard. A man.” She swore she could see tears in the corners of his eyes. “He said ‘Sorry about your mom, but she was in the way. Don’t make the same mistake, boy. The Rebel King is rarely merciful more than once.’”

 

Clarke could only stare at the man in pity. How horrible for him, to have to go through that experience. To find out his mother had been murdered via voicemail. She couldn’t even imagine.

 

“Her body showed up in the river the next day. The police never found him, of course.” He cleared his throat. “I needed his help more than ever but see, Bellamy had been MIA for a _year._ And Octavia was no help at all.” He smiled painfully. “And then, almost like it was fate, two weeks later, he popped up on the international news vein, having recovered some painting - _In Chicago._ ”

 

Clarke remembered the same story with clarity. It felt like a lifetime ago now, waking up that morning and watching the news with Harper. She and Wells running into him that day at the coffee shop. The way her dead heart started beating again when she saw him. How she completely forgot she even _had_ a boyfriend in that moment and had to stop herself from running straight into his arms.

 

“So I acted fast. I sent the email. I took a chance that he would actually come to the meet up for the painting, but I figured if he felt good enough to start taking jobs for his company again, he would want to go for one of the most famous missing paintings of all time.” He shrugged unapologetically at his deceit. “Chatter around _The Concert_ had been going on for about a year when I sent the email and I _knew_ that eventually, The Rebel King would go after it. It was practically his MO at that point - The more valuable the better. I knew the Sydney woman had it at some point and that it had likely moved on, but I knew Bellamy would follow the trail. He would find it. And he would find The Rebel King in the process.”

 

He stopped and looked at her then, allowing her a moment to process everything he had said. She didn’t even know where to start with her questions.

 

“And that’s all I know.” He finished for her. “I’m not Bellamy, Clarke. I can’t fill in all the gaps. I can only fill in things from my side.” He took another sip from his drink. “I sent the email to you too because I needed insurance. _Re_ assurance. That Bellamy would join the hunt. And the only way I could guarantee that, was to make sure that he had incentive.” He stared at her then. “You were his incentive.”

 

She swallowed down her feelings at that.

 

“Now, if we’re done, I think you should get back to the hotel. Your lover boy is probably looking for you.” He smirked. “And I don’t think he’s going to be happy to know where you’ve been.”

 

\----

 

_Immediately after the first time helped Clarke and their coffee date, he had been pulled into several long-term jobs for his company. He kept in touch with Octavia, who had a direct line to Lincoln and the museum, just to check in on Clarke from time to time. Even though Octavia told him he was a coward and that he needed to just man up and for_ **_God’s sake_ ** _give the poor girl his phone number, at least._

 

_He wasn’t sure why he still hadn’t. Maybe it was his inner subconscious wanting to hold off until he was more settled in and could actually take her on a proper date. He never thought he would grow to resent the travelling part of his job. That had always been a perk._

 

_Octavia called him again six months later when he was deep in the Italian countryside. She told him that if he wanted the opportunity to gain the blonde’s attention again, it had arisen. That Clarke was looking for a new centerpiece now that his original gift had been returned to its rightful place._

 

_He flushed when he recalled how quickly he had up and flown back to the states._

 

_The Isleworth Mona Lisa had been a total and complete happy circumstance._

 

_The owner really was looking for a place for it to be housed and she happened to be good friends with Diana Sydney who wanted Bellamy to take her up on her constant offers to make him feel good._

 

_He couldn’t control the shiver of disgust that ran through him at the very idea._

 

_He still couldn’t bring himself to meet her face to face again, so he left a note. And a tulip. And hoped she didn’t look up what it meant._

 

_He had long since made a copy of Lincoln’s key to the museum (He may or may not actually know about it), so he snuck in the back door and left them when she was out of the office. Most might find it creepy, but he was banking on - Maybe - Her thinking it was sweet instead._

 

_Only, after that, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He just kept finding new donations for her museum. He told himself it was for the good of the owners, but really it was because he wanted Clarke’s attention. He wanted_ **_her_ ** _to think about_ **_him_ ** _as much as he thought about her. And even though he kept leaving the notes unsigned, he knew she would know who they were from._

 

_So imagine his surprise when, one day, almost a year since their coffee date, an invitation arrived for him in his inbox from his insurance company. It was to a party for the governor - For Abby._

 

_His immediate reaction was to say no, to stay home, but then her face drifted through his mind like a vapor, and he didn’t have it within himself to say no._

 

_He probably owed it to her to actually show up in person at some point._

 

_It wasn’t like he had been_ **_avoiding_ ** _seeing her face to face, he’d just been very busy with his job._

 

_He snorted internally._ **_Sure._ **

 

_His company wasn’t happy with him that he had been trying to stick to the states lately, but he thought it was worth it to leave her little notes between jobs, reminding her that he was still there._

 

_Octavia hadn’t seemed to mind his occasional crashing on her couch as he drifted in and out of town, but he knew his time with the company was coming to a close._

 

_He knew he needed to stick around this time._

 

\----

 

Roan held the door open for her as they left the bar and exited onto the street.

 

It was much colder now than before they had sat down for their conversation and she couldn’t help but run the palms of her hands up and down her arms, trying to get some friction to warm her up.

 

“I’m sorry if I didn’t give you the answers you wanted, Clarke.” Roan said, his voice deep but loud as they began their walk. “But if it’s any consolation, I really don’t think you have a lot to be worried about with Bellamy.”

 

He stopped and placed his arm on her shoulder, pausing her trek as well.

 

“I’ve known that man for a very long time. Since he was fresh out of college, just beginning his job with the industry and making a name for himself in the underground overseas.” He sighed, bringing his hand back to slip inside his jean pocket. “I had never even heard him _speak_ another girl’s name besides Octavia’s until I met you.”

 

She could feel her pulse pick up once more, like it always did when she was confronted with her feelings for Bellamy.

 

“Thanks, Roan.” She said, her tone sincere. “I just-” She paused, unsure of how much she should tell this man, who was essentially a stranger to her. “I just need to know before I jump two feet into the deep end.”

 

He smirked at her.

 

“As you should.” He bumped her shoulder with his and continued their walk. “Give him hell, kid, he deserves it. Just not before he finds my mom’s killer.”

 

A loud sound suddenly rang out all around them, the noise echoing off the stone walls of the buildings surrounding them.

 

“Ah!” She jumped in fright and in surprise before she unceremoniously found herself shoved into a nearby alley, Roan’s body covering hers as they both tumbled to the ground.

 

“Move!” He shouted, urging her to crawl across the grimy ground of the alleyway toward a fire escape ladder that extended to the top of the building beside them.

 

He pushed her toward the ladder and her body immediately started moving, seemingly aware and alert, in spite of her mind’s inability to keep up. Her thoughts were racing but she didn’t have time to process as the gunshots continued.

 

_Gunshots._

 

Her brain finally registered the noises she was hearing as she made it the top of the building, Roan right behind her.

 

“Up, Griffin, GO!”

 

She jumped onto the roof and watched Roan do the same before he turned around and took a gun out of a holster she hadn’t realized was there and started banging at the flimsy metal of the ladder with the butt of the instrument with brute strength until the ladder detached itself from where it had been anchored and slid down the wall.

 

She heard curses of people from below and Roan suddenly turned, and pulled her up from the ground moving both of them across the roof toward the building next to them.

 

“Keep moving!” He said under his breath, both of their breathing rough and uneven.

 

He led them on a journey across multiple buildings, zigzagging his pattern, making their movement patterns more unpredictable until he finally reached a stopping point, looking down toward the ground from the top of another ladder.

 

“Come on, we’ve gotta get down, let’s go.” He gestured to the flimsy metal ladder.

 

She didn’t question his expertise as she climbed down, watching as he followed after her from above until they reached the bottom of another alleyway.

 

Once they were both firmly planted on the ground, Clarke allowed herself a moment to lean back against the building, her breathing still hard and laboured.

 

It took her a moment for her brain to once again catch up and she noticed that Roan wasn’t beside her.

 

She glanced around her in a panic, finally finding him collapsed on the pavement a few yards away.

 

“Roan!” She shouted his name, running to where he had fallen and was clutching his chest, a look of pain on his face.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Griffin, shut up, will you? Or do you want those assholes to find us again?” His voice was weak and lacking the edge he surely meant for it to have.

 

“Roan, oh my God! What the fuck just happened?”

 

He continued to clutch his chest, his other hand finally moving his t-shirt up his body, exposing his chest. Except Clarke definitely wasn’t looking at his chest.

 

She was looking at his gunshot wound.

 

“Oh no!” She gasped. Her hands moved up to press near the wound and he winced. “Roan, hold on, we’ll get you to the hospital.”

 

He nodded but he was barely awake now, on the verge of passing out.

 

“Roan! Don’t you fucking dare, you asshole! You don’t get to die right now after saving my life! Hold on, damn it!”

 

She reached into his pocket and pulled out a little black phone, dialing 9-1-1, and cursing him in the same breath.

 

“I mean it. You stay awake, you hear me.”

 

He nodded again, this one weaker than the last one and she couldn't help the tear that trailed down her cheek.

 

\----

 

**_1.5 Years Ago_ **

 

_The girl at the coat check checked him out as he removed his outerwear, her eyes lingered on the shape of his pecs underneath his tuxedo jacket._

 

_Any other time in his life, he would’ve smirked and made small talk with her. Maybe in hopes for something more._

 

_But tonight, he had someone else to impress, and he had pulled out all the stops to make sure that happened._

 

_He entered the ballroom, immediately overwhelmed by the fancy nature of the party. He felt sorely out of place, but he knew it would be like this. It’s why he almost didn’t go._

 

_But it would be worth it._

 

**_She_** **_was worth it._**

 

_He looked around, silently trying to blend into the crowd and ignore the hungry stares of the married women whose eyes followed him around the room._

 

_That was when he saw her._

 

_She looked supremely bored, leaning against the wall with a glass of champagne in her hand. Looking out the window, he could see her profile and the light of the twinkle lights hanging from the ceiling causing the diamond necklace on her throat to glitter in the darkness of the area where she was standing._

 

_In that moment, he was certain he had never seen someone more beautiful._

 

_And he suddenly didn’t feel the anxiety of this upscale party as he moved toward her from his place across the room._

 

_As he approached her, he couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the look on her face. She looked like she wanted to jump out of the window and shimmy her way down the drain pipe on the side of the building._

 

_“At least try and look like you’re having a good time, Princess.”_

 

_She gasped slightly, her shoulders stiffening as she immediately stood up straighter, turning toward his voice._

 

_He watched the careful change of emotion as it played out across her face. First, she drank him in, much like every other woman at this party. Only, when it was Clarke who stared at him, hungrily undressing him with her eyes, he clenched his hands into fists to keep himself from grabbing her around the waist and mercilessly kissing her up against the wall._

 

_Then, he watched as the haziness in her eyes cleared with a minute shake of her head and her features turned harsher, more angry._

 

_“Bellamy.”_

 

_His face contorted as he took in the heated glare she was sending his way._

 

_“Have I done something to upset you?”_

 

_Here he thought all of his gifts would soften her up to him, but she only seemed to glare harder at his confusion._

 

_“I haven’t seen you in a year and you just show up at one of my mother’s parties expecting me to be excited to see you?”_

 

**_Ah, so there it was._ **

_He should’ve known she wouldn’t let him get away with a prolonged absence, even_ **_with_ ** _his continued attentions._

 

_He smiled at her obvious resentment. He could work with that. Her anger was just proof that she cared._

 

_“Why, Princess.” He said, his voice dropping lower as he stepped over to where she was standing. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you missed me.”_

 

_She made a very unlady-like noise and turned her attention to the wall and then back again._

 

_“What are you even doing here, anyways? Did you make a generous donation to my mother’s campaign too?” She snarked as she stood up straighter._

 

_He would never get over the way she did that. Challenged him at every turn. Called him on his obvious bullshit._

 

_It made him want to devour her._

 

_Instead, he laughed._

 

_“I’m afraid not.” He looked over at Abby on the other side of the room and nodded “This invite was in thanks for a different matter.”_

 

_She was about to say something else when they heard Abby joined them._

 

_“Bellamy!” She leaned forward to kiss both of his cheeks. “Thank you so much for joining us! I know Clarke will be much happier with you here.”_

 

_He smiled at that, turning to look at Clarke._

 

**_Is that so?_ **

 

_“It’s my pleasure, Abby.”_

 

_Her mother soaked up all of his attentions but Bellamy knew it was nothing like the other women here. It would seem that Abby might have a soft spot for his friendship with Clarke._

 

_“I need air.” He heard Clarke say before she moved quickly past them toward the balcony doors._

 

_Once she was gone, her mother leaned over to whisper in his ear._

 

_“Go on. Go get her. She won’t wait forever, you know.”_

 

_He turned in time to see her smile saucily in his direction before leaving in the same direction she came from._

 

_Turning, he moved to the exit Clarke had taken and pushed the doors open._

 

_She was leaning against the railing that looked out over the city, her back to him. The dress exposed a lot of skin and his eyes drank in every inch, his hands twitching, anxious to touch her._

 

_“You can’t run away from me so easily, Princess.” He said when he was a foot away and he watched her form shiver slightly, whether from his words or the cool night air, he wasn’t sure._

 

_He stepped in, his arm wrapping around her and his palm resting against her stomach, pulling her back into him just slightly._

 

_His resistance failed as his lips succumbed to his desires, moving to press against the skin of her collarbone. Her skin was warm as he traced a pathway up the side of her neck to her ear, inhaling her sweet scent when he reached his destination._

 

_“Did you like my presents?”_

 

_She was shaking in his arms as she nodded. He knew then that he had the exact same effect on her as she did on him._

 

_His hand moved then, just below her breasts, pressing her back further so she could feel his ragged breathing against the bare skin of her back._

 

_Her voice was hoarse when she spoke._

 

_“Which ones are you asking about? The paintings or the tulips?” He felt her inhale shakily as she asked, obviously taking effort.._

 

_He couldn’t help but laugh at her cleverness._

 

_“Both, I suppose. I hoped you would figure it out.”_

 

_She turned in his arms then and he momentarily mourned the loss of her warmth before her hand came up to rest on his chest, and he was suddenly worried she could feel his racing heartbeat beneath her palm._

 

_“Thank you, Bellamy. You have no idea how much it means to my career.” She swallowed, her eyes drifting to his chest and back up. “To me.” She whispered._

 

**_This was it_ ** _, he thought, his smile drifting and his eyes moving to her lips._

 

_He brought his hand, still warm from her body, up to cup her cheek._

 

_In that moment, he was ready. Ready to tell her how he felt. How he wanted things to work for them. That he was going to leave his company and live in Chicago full time._

 

_For her._

 

_But the door opened, the sounds of the party drifting in before he had the chance._

 

_And older couple came out, the husband obviously trying to subdue his wife who had a little too much to drink._

 

_The man looked between the two of them, embarrassed._

 

_“I’m so sorry to interrupt. She needed some fresh air.”_

 

_He felt Clarke step away from him and his chest ached from her absence._

 

_“Of course.” She looked at him then. “We were just going inside anyways.”_

 

_She rushed past him toward the ballroom._

 

_When she was gone, the gentleman apologized to Bellamy once more._

 

_“It’s fine.” Bellamy said with a small smile, heading toward the ballroom as well._

 

_He scanned the crowd, searching for Clarke in the masses._

 

_“She’s gone.” He heard a voice from behind him._

 

_He turned to find some shaggy-haired looking kid leaning against the wall, a camera in his hand._

 

_“I’m sorry?” Bellamy asked, confused as to who this guy even was._

 

_“Clarke.” The guy motioned toward the exit. “She left. That’s who you’re looking for right? You two looked awful cozy out on the balcony.”_

 

_Bellamy could feel the muscle in his jaw tick in annoyance._

 

_The shaggy-haired dude held his hands up in an act of appeasement._

 

_“No judgment, dude.” Bellamy continued to glare at the man’s familiarity. “I’m just saying. You should be careful.”_

 

_He paused his continued crowd search once more, turning to face the man yet again._

 

_“What do you mean?”_

 

_The guy shrugged._

 

_“Girls like her.” He nodded toward Clarke’s escape once more. “They don’t go for guys like you. I’m at these parties all the time. Girls like_ **_her_ ** _don’t go home with the help.”_

 

_In spite of himself, Bellamy could feel the blush rise in his cheeks at the guy’s assessment._

 

_“Well, good thing I’m not the help then.” He mumbled, turning back to the crowd, aiming to just leave._

 

_He heard the boy-band wannabe laugh behind him._

 

_“Whatever you say, man.”_

 

_He ignored him this time, making his way through the crowd to the lobby, looking around once more but not finding Clarke anywhere he looked._

_His phone buzzed then so he pulled it out to see who it was._

 

_The name_ **_Lincoln_ ** _flashed across the screen and he answered._

 

_“Not the time, man.” He said, his voice low as he made his way to the coat check, intent on following Clarke out onto the streets. She couldn’t have gone far._

 

_“Bellamy. It’s Octavia. She’s- She’s in the hospital”_

 

_And, in that moment, everything else fell away._

 

\----

 

She bit down on her thumbnail, anxiously waiting for the nurse to come and give a report on Roan’s condition.

 

She had texted Bellamy from Roan’s phone, afraid that if she spoke to him, her voice would give out or she would burst into tears.

 

He didn’t respond to the text, but she knew he was coming.

 

Somehow, she knew.

 

Not thirty seconds had past since she had the thought when the Emergency Room doors opened and in walked Bellamy Blake, looking just as beautiful as the day she met him, leaning cockily against her parents bookshelf.

 

Except a lot more angry.

 

His eyes found hers immediately and she felt herself shrink back into her seat at the blatant disappointment coloring his features.

 

She expected anger. Yelling, maybe. Definitely a stern talking-to.

 

Instead, he crossed the room, his gaze unwavering from her own, and picked her up out of her seat, his arms encompassing her whole body as he pressed her into him, his grip so strong, she couldn’t move.

 

His face buried itself in her neck, rubbing back and forth, his right hand gripping into her hair and his left wrapping around her waist, no sign of letting go.

 

“Never do that to me again.” His voice was wrecked. “Do you understand me? _Never._ ”

 

Her eyes were filled with tears and she could only nod as she clung to him in return, hiding her face in his hair, trying to keep herself from sobbing.

 

He continued to hold her for minutes, neither of them willing to let the other one go until finally, he pulled back, his hands continuing their hold.

 

He squeezed her waist tightly and his hand pushed the hair out of her face.

 

“Clarke.” His voice was low. “I can’t lose you. Do you get that?” She tried to nod but he cut her off. “I don’t think you do.” He shook his head, his hand holding her face. “There _is_ no one else for me. You’re it.”

 

She froze at his words, the impact of his words taking over at hearing the declaration.

 

She wanted to say it back. To reassure him that he was it for _her_ too, but she couldn’t move, so frozen in her own adrenaline crash and simultaneous shock.

 

“Clarke Griffin?” A voice called and she immediately shook herself from her stupor, turning to face the doctor who had just entered.

 

“Yes?” She said, her voice shaky with all the emotion she was feeling.

 

“Your friend is awake, he’s waiting for you.”

 

She nodded, immediately stepping in behind the doctor and following him down the white hall, Bellamy’s hand in hers as he accompanied her.

 

When they reached Roan’s room, the doctor opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

 

“Well, well, Griffin. Looks like you saved the day, afterall.”

 

She smiled slightly but felt Bellamy’s grip on her hand tighten.

 

She looked up to since him glaring heatedly at Roan, who smirked in return.

 

“Your friend here is going to be okay. We’ve filed the police report and everything is in order. He’ll get to go home tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you, Doctor.” Clarke said softly and then man nodded and retreated from the room to his next patient.

 

“I swear to _God_ , Roan, if you weren’t already in the hospital I would fucking put you there.”

 

Roan rolled his eyes at Bellamy’s threat.

 

“Really, man? It was just a conversation. The fact that we were shot at and that you’re about to leave on another lead means you’re getting _close,_ my friend. Close enough that The Rebel King wants to take you out of the equation. Smart man, really. He understands that this one.” He nodded at Clarke. “Is your weakness. He must be watching you. Maybe for a while now.”

 

“Princess.” Bellamy said, gripping her hand.

 

She turned to look at him.

 

“Go grab yourself a snack from the cafeteria.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “I need to talk to Roan alone.”

 

She wanted to argue, but Bellamy and Roan looked like they were about to throw fists in the Emergency Room and she wanted to be out of the line of fire.

 

When she made it to the cafeteria, she took out her phone to text her mother while she waited.

 

**Clarke Griffin** _Bellamy and I are headed to Spain tomorrow._

 

**Abby Griffin** _Okay, muffin, be careful. We miss you! Can’t wait to see you two again!_

 

She snorted at her mother’s obvious insinuation. Ever since she had told her about her break-up with Finn, the asides had been coming more than they ever had.

 

Her mother was obviously a big Bellamy and Clarke fan.

 

She made it back to the room ten minutes later, thinking that was surely enough for the two of them to hash out whatever their issues were.

 

But when she made it to the door, she could hear muffled voices, heatedly arguing through the plexi glass.

 

“How the hell was I supposed to know that, Blake? The man made it known, _himself._ Maybe if you would actually talk to your friends, I would’ve known he was _lying_!!”

 

“Oh come off it, Roan. It was an official investigation, you _know_ you’re not privy to that shit. Maybe you shouldn’t try to coerce your friends into doing things for you by threatening the people they love!”

 

Clarke’s breath hitched in her throat and her hand came up to her chest in surprise.

 

“I’ve already apologized for bringing Clarke into this. Don’t you think I feel bad enough, as it is? She almost fucking died tonight and all because she was meeting with me. I would’ve never forgiven myself if I let something happen to her.”

 

“Yeah, you’re damn lucky it didn’t too.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, or you would’ve killed me, got it.”

 

There was a pause in conversation before she heard Roan again.

 

“Listen, man. She… She’s really in this too. If you want happiness with her, maybe the two of you should just abandon this shit. I can get to this guy on my own.”

 

There was more silence as Bellamy seemed to consider what he said.

 

“Don’t you think I _want_ to do that? I can’t. I have to see this through to the end. Especially now that this has come into my court. This guy is singling me out for some reason. Even before we started this whole adventure, apparently. And now I can’t let Clarke go home. Because he knows what she means to me. She’s safer with me than without me.”

 

As he continued to speak, Clarke grew more confused.

 

Every time she thought she had figured this situation out, she was proven wrong yet again.

 

Her phone ringing drew her out of her eavesdropping and she cursed, almost dropping it before silencing it and putting it in her pocket without even looking at it.

 

Knowing that they had probably heard it ring, she winced as she opened the door and entered the room.

 

“My hero has returned!” Roan hailed as she entered.

 

“Pretty sure you’re the one who took a bullet for me.” She drawled.

 

“Yeah, well. You saved me from that being fatal, so to that, I owe you thanks.” He tipped his head in her direction.

 

“Anytime.” She smiled a genuine small smile.

 

“We’re going now, Roan.” Bellamy said gruffly, reaching out for Clarke’s hand once more. “Please, for the love of God, the next time you need something, just fucking _text._ ”

 

Roan smirked.

 

“Sure thing, Blake.”

 

* * *

  


Clarke huffed as she plopped down into the seat at their gate, her rolling travel bag on the floor in front of her.

 

Bellamy was off to the side, grabbing what looked like Peanuts from the vendor next to the gate.

 

She eyed the Starbucks three stores down longingly and vowed to go for a visit when Bellamy came back and could watch their luggage.

 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she took it out, already rolling her eyes at her dad’s constant pestering over her flight details.

 

However, when she looked at the screen, it was a text from an unknown number.

 

Eyebrows drawn in confusion, she swiped the screen and opened the text message.

 

She read the message, unable to contain her sudden intake of breath.

 

**Unknown** _Safe travels. Next time, I won’t miss. - TRK_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNN
> 
> WELL??
> 
> What do you think?
> 
> What did you notice? Any guesses? What happened to Octavia? How long has TRK been watching them? Who was the guy at Abby's party who spoke to Bellamy?!?!
> 
> Let me know your theories, as usual!
> 
> I LOVE reading them!
> 
> See you next Sunday!


	16. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys aren't ready for this chapter.
> 
> And on that note... ENJOY!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Gone**

 

**_A Little Over a Year Ago_ **

 

_“You can’t stay here forever, you know.” He heard Octavia’s voice float into the kitchen from her place on the living room couch. “I’m almost fully recovered now and I’ll have to go back to work soon anyways.”_

 

_He could feel his shoulders tense, even as he continued to mix the batter in front of him._

 

_“So you’re going back, then?” His voice was more of a growl than he intended but he heard Octavia snort in response to his frustration anyways._

 

_“Of course I’m going back, Bellamy. It’s my job.” Her tone was one of derision laced with an edge of sympathy for his nerves._

 

_“Yeah, your job that almost got you killed, O.” He tried to stop himself from stabbing the bowl with his spoon but he was having trouble._

 

_“Well,” He heard her voice coming up behind him as she walked into the kitchen. “They are moving me, if it makes you feel better.”_

 

_He rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cookie sheet from beside the stove and began to scoop the dough out onto the greased surface._

 

_“Sure. Much better. So you’re no longer working the on drug cartels. What are you working now? Homicide?”_

 

_She plopped up onto the countertop beside him and reached into the bowl of dough, bringing the small bit she swiped to her mouth to swallow whole._

 

_“Stop that!” He admonished, protecting his bowl from her greediness. “You know you’re not supposed to eat raw cookie dough, you animal.”_

 

_Octavia laughed and pushed him away._

 

_“Whatever, dork. Mom used to let me all the time.” She sighed. “And no, not homicide. White Collar Crime.”_

 

_At that, Bellamy paused, turning to look in her direction._

 

_“You can’t be serious.” His face was flat. “They know you and Lincoln are dating, right? Why would they put you on the same beat?”_

_She glared at him._

 

_“Because I requested to be and they accepted. Maybe they aren’t worried about that being a compromisation of my ability to do my job because Lincoln is stationed at the museum most of the time.”_

 

_Bellamy turned and continued to scoop out the last of the cookies, before placing the tray in the oven and setting the timer._

 

_“I don’t know, Octavia. You’re just now walking normally again and you already want to jump back in?” He turned to face her. “The night you were hurt, I…” He trailed off._

 

_She jumped down from the counter on wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug._

 

_“I promise, big brother. I just..” She pulled back. “I’ve got to get back out there.”_

 

_She looked down at her feet, biting down on her bottom lip and immediately, Bellamy was tense once more._

 

_“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked, his mind instantly racing with thousands of possibilities._

 

_She looked out the window behind her._

 

_“It’s just… There’s something I haven’t told you. Or anyone, really...About that night.”_

 

_On alert, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him fully._

 

_“What do you mean? Why didn’t you tell me? What is it?”_

 

_Octavia sighed and pulled away from her brother’s embrace, moving backward to lean against the countertop._

 

_“I’m not even sure it happened. The attack was over and I was convinced I was dying, laying there on the floor..”_

 

_Bellamy’s jaw clenched as he listened to her relive one of the worst nights of both their lives._

 

_“But anyways, as I was lying there, I could have sworn I felt a presence beside me.” She paused, turning to find his eyes again. “They rubbed my cheek and they said…”_

 

_He watched her gulp and take a deep breath._

 

_“They said ‘I’m sorry, little one, but it had to be done.’”_

 

_Bellamy could feel the blood leaving his face as he registered her words._

 

_“O.” He paused, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “It’s not possible. What you’re thinking, it’s not possible.”_

 

_She glared at him._

 

_“Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I haven’t told anyone.”_

 

_He sighed, running a hand through his hair._

 

 _“Even if you did feel someone or hear someone, it wasn’t him. He’s_ **_dead._ ** _I watched him die, myself.”_

 

_“I fucking know that, Bell!” She raised her voice. “I just-- I can’t stop thinking about it.”_

 

_He reached forward and pulled her into his chest, hugging her close and comforting her._

 

_“It was the adrenaline, O. It’s okay. You didn’t hear him, I promise.”_

 

_She nodded into his chest somberly._

 

_“You’re right.” She said hoarsely, pulling back once more. “Of course you’re right, I just - I needed to tell you.”_

 

_She swiped fingers under her eyes, ridding herself of the tears that had fallen during her story._

 

 _“Now.” She punched him in the shoulder. “Let’s talk about the_ **_real_ ** _reason why you don’t want me to go back to work.”_

 

_Bellamy huffed and walked away from her over to the refrigerator to retrieve the milk to go with their cookies._

 

_“You can’t avoid her forever, Bellamy.”_

 

_He couldn’t help the self-deprecating chuckle that escaped._

 

 _“You’ll find that is actually inaccurate. Illinois is a very large state.” He shut the fridge a little more harshly than necessary. “Besides, after I left her at the party, she couldn’t_ **_possibly_ ** _want to see me again.” He sighed. “Maybe that little prick was right, anyways. Why would someone like her possibly want someone like me?”_

 

_Octavia crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes._

 

 _“Um. Maybe because you’re a great guy who has literally gone out of his way to get her attention. Just tell her_ **_why_ ** _you left. I’m sure she will understand.”_

 

 _Bellamy had to admit that Octavia was probably right. Clarke_ **_would_ ** _understand why he left. She wasn’t an unreasonable person._

 

_“I can’t tell her that you almost died in an undercover op gone wrong, O. I have to protect you and your job.” He sighed. “And I definitely can’t tell her I was in Illinois the whole time. Cause that could lead back to Lincoln and would totally blow his cover.”_

 

 _The silent voice in his head also acknowledged that if he told Clarke his primary “residence” was in Illinois, she would wonder why she hadn’t seen him_ **_at all_ ** _in six months. This whole thing was just a clusterfuck._

 

_“You can tell her that there was a sickness in your family and that’s literally all she would need to know to forgive you.”_

 

_He thought about that for a second before the timer rang out and he distracted himself with pulling the cookies from the oven._

 

_“Just think about it, big bro.” He placed the cookies on the stove top and turned to face her once more. “She won’t wait forever, you know.”_

 

_He nodded._

 

_She was right._

  


\----

  


It was torture.

 

Sitting there on the plane with Bellamy, knowing that she should tell him about the text message but also not wanting to cause a national emergency on a plane when he inevitably over-reacted.

 

Luckily, the plane ride wasn’t too long and they were touching down sooner than she expected, having been able to pretend sleep the entire plane ride.

 

“You’re a terrible pretend sleeper, by the way.” He mumbled toward his magazine as she fake yawned and sat up. “And it’s at this point that I ask why the hell you pretended to sleep this entire time.”

 

She sighed and leaned her head back against the seat.

 

“Because I have to tell you something once we’re off the plane, and I knew you’d be able to read it all over my face.”

 

He seemed at least a little shocked by her blatant honesty, eyes widening and then narrowing suspiciously.

 

“What is it, Princess?”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“After we get off the plane, asshat.”

 

He smirked in her direction, leaning in close, whispering in her ear.

 

“You know, we’ll have a few hours until that museum exhibit opens tonight.”

 

She couldn’t help the shiver that raced down her body at his insinuation, turning to look at him heatedly.

 

“What did you have in mind?”

 

He chuckled, leaning forward the last two inches and kissing her soundly, drawing a low moan from her easily.

 

Pulling away, he grinned and pushed the hair behind her ear.

 

“All sorts of things.”

 

At that moment, the pilot came over the speaker, announcing their arrival and they both prepared for landing.

 

She couldn’t help but send one last lust-fueled stare in his direction.

  


-

  


The airport wasn’t very busy that early in the day, so she and Bellamy had a relatively easy time retrieving their bags and making their way through to Rideshare.

 

They had almost made it when she heard her name being shouted across the room.

 

“Clarke!”

 

Both she and Bellamy stopped and looked at one another in confusion.

 

Were they shouting for _her?_

 

“Clarke, wait!”

 

The two of them turned and started looking around the room for the source of the shouting.

 

She froze in place when she saw Finn Collins running through the airport toward her.

 

 _What in the_ **_actual fuck?_ **

 

“What the fuck?” She said out loud, looking to Bellamy who was staring at Finn with a look of confusion.

 

“Clarke!” He had reached her now and was reaching out to touch her, his arms coming up to embrace her, but she stepped back quickly, backing into Bellamy who’s hands came up to hold her by the shoulders.

 

Finn looked hurt by her actions but continued nonetheless.

 

“Clarke, I’m so glad I found you! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

 

Clarke looked around at the crowd of people who were staring in their direction.

 

“Finn.” She hissed. “How the hell did you find me here?”

 

She hadn’t hear a word from him since Bellamy ended their phone conversation in France.

 

“Your mom, of course.” He said with an out of breath smile. “She told me you were flying into Barcelona this morning. I’ve been waiting around for hours, trying to spot you.”

 

_What the fuck, mom? Really? What happened to being Team Bellamy?_

 

“Finn, listen, I don’t know why my mom gave you that information or why you’re here, but you need to go home.”

“Hold on.” Bellamy interjected behind her. “ _This_ is Finn?”

 

Clarke sighed and tilted her head back.

 

“Yes. Bellamy, Finn. Finn, Bellamy.”

 

Finn looked at Bellamy in interest.

 

“You look familiar, dude. Do I know you from somewhere?”

 

Bellamy looked ready to speak but Clarke intervened.

 

“No. Not having conversation. You.” She pointed to Finn. “We are over. Finished. I have no interest in carrying on any sort of friendship with you. Get back on a plane and go home. You.” She turned and pointed at Bellamy. “We’re leaving.”

 

She pulled Bellamy by the hand, hurriedly leading him to the Rideshare zone.

 

“But wait! Clarke!” She could hear Finn shouting behind them as they made their way outside to the farthest end of the zone.

 

She furiously pulled out her phone to text her mother.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _MOM! I can’t BELIEVE you told Finn where I was going to be! That’s so not cool!_

 

She shoved her phone back into her pocket and turned to face Bellamy whose face was contorted into his “thinking face.”

 

“I can’t believe she told him where to find me.” She said, furiously glaring at anyone who dared look in their direction.

 

“Are you sure?” Bellamy asked, and she turned to give him her attention, confused. “I mean, are you sure you’re making the right decision. Me over him?” He nodded in the direction where they left Finn.

 

Something was swimming behind his eyes that she couldn’t identify. Why now? Why was he only just now questioning her leaving Finn? After he’d met him himself.

 

“Of course I’m sure, Bellamy. I fucking broke up with that loser because of you in the first place.”

 

_Oops._

 

“Did you now?”

 

She turned to find him smirking down at her, his eyes suddenly heated again.

 

“Yes, if you must know. I mean, I knew it wasn’t a good relationship before you showed back up, but let’s be honest, having you around just made it even more apparent that he was just not what I was looking for.”

 

Bellamy was full on grinning now, reaching out and pulling her into his chest, wrapping his hands around her waist.

 

“So, you’re saying I’ve ruined you for other men.”

 

_God, yes._

 

“No.” She bit out. “He was just especially bad.”

 

At that moment, their Uber pulled up so she pulled out of his arms and started loading her bag in the trunk.

 

“Really? Cause it sounds to me like you tried to date someone else to forget about me and it didn’t work.” He laughed at that.

 

She slammed the door to the backseat shut as she took her seat and refused to look in his direction.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t have felt the need to forget about you if you hadn’t abandoned me that day and then disappeared for a year.”

 

Bellamy froze in his seat, his grin fading, even as the car moved from its place at the curb to join the traffic on the street.

 

His phone rang at that moment and she huffed, leaning back in her seat in disappointment that, once again, the subject would be ignored.

 

“Yeah.” He answered. “Of course. Another one?” He cursed quietly. “Yeah, I got that, O.”

 

She looked out the window, refusing to give his conversation any of her attention.

 

“She’s fine.” He was more quiet this time, updating his sister on her safety, apparently. “I know.”

 

She wanted so badly to ask what was being said during the conversation, but she didn’t want to cave in on her own anger.

 

“Got it. Listen, we’re pulling up to the hotel. I’ll call you in a little bit, okay?”

 

They stopped at the curb and she jumped out before he finished his conversation, grabbing her bags from the trunk, and making her way inside.

  


\----

  


**_1 Year Ago_ **

 

_It happened on a weekday._

 

_Bellamy had been sitting at the kitchen counter resting after a long day of helping Octavia prepare for going back to work._

 

_Packing, refilling prescriptions, driving her by the office…_

 

_He had just sat down for a break when his phone dinged signaling a new email._

 

_Figuring it might be another local job he could handle, he took out his cell phone to check the notification._

 

_It was from his insurance company._

 

 _Only, it wasn’t what he was expecting_ **_at all._ **

  


**_Sender:_ ** **_cpike@pikeinsurance.net_ **

**_Subject: New Job_ **

 

**_Blake,_ **

 

_Clarke Griffin at Ark Museum has requested you, specifically, with a recent acquisition._

 

_Please respond accordingly._

 

_Pike_

  


_Bellamy could feel his eyebrows knit together in confusion._

 

_What an odd email._

 

_Usually, Pike’s emails came with a case number, estimated job profit, and the actual case file with the police report._

 

_Did Clarke reach out to Pike, personally?_

 

_Or her mother._

 

_Well that would make sense. Clarke’s mother was the governor, after all. She probably personally requested Bellamy from Pike and wanting to please the governor, he skipped protocol._

 

_Either way, Bellamy needed to respond._

 

_But this time, he found that he didn’t mind._

  


_——_

  


_He was nervous._

 

_Part of himself wanted to believe Clarke was seeking him out because she wasn’t angry with him, that she still wanted to carry on where they left off, and this was her only way of getting in touch with him._

 

**_Since you still haven’t given her your phone number, ass._ **

 

_The other part of himself snarked that she likely just needed his help with a piece and that she was going to completely ignore him._

 

_And that she would never give him another shot again._

 

_Did he really deserve it though?_

 

 _Yeah, he’d been taking care of Octavia for months, but he_ **_was_ ** _in town. Why didn’t he go see her?_

 

**_Maybe because that asshole at the party actually got to you._ **

 

_Bellamy shook his head, willing himself to banish his inner turmoil._

 

 _He didn’t even know who that guy was, but_ **_somehow_ ** _the man knew exactly how to get under his skin. Knew his innermost demons about feeling inferior to rich people, how self conscience he once was… He knew and he reached right into his soul and made him feel like shit again._

 

_But none of that was Clarke’s fault. It wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t get out of his own damned head and just ask her out._

 

_So he braced himself as he pulled into the museum parking lot for either reaction from her. Either unbridled fury or annoyed acceptance._

 

_As he pushed his gear stick into park, he looked up in time to see the woman in question getting out of her Prius, lost in thought, with a bag of food in her hand._

 

_He froze at the sight of her._

 

_Her hair was longer._

 

_It had been long the last time he saw her but now, it was well below the shoulder blades on her back, hanging free in loose curls._

 

_All he could think about was burying his face in it, losing himself in her scent._

 

_Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, he quickly moved to open his door and began to approach her as she moved to the entrance._

 

_She was so lost in her own mind, she didn’t even notice him at first. When she reached to open the door, he leaned forward and pulled it open for her._

 

_She jolted slightly at that, finally noticing someone behind her, and turned to say her thanks._

 

_Her eyes widened when she took him in, her breath leaving her in a gasp._

 

_She was even more beautiful up close and his heart ached for all the lost time that had passed when he could’ve been here. With her._

 

_And all because of his stupid ego._

 

_“I heard you were looking for me.”_

 

_She was still unmoving for a few seconds, almost like she was trying to convince herself that he was actually in front of her._

 

_He cringed internally at her reaction. Had it really been that long?_

 

_Was the damage already done?_

 

_She shook her head slightly._

 

_“I was, actually.” She said pleasantly as she turned to enter the building._

 

_He quickly trailed in behind her, trying to catch up lest she could get too far._

 

_She didn’t say anything as they walked and he was scared to bring anything up, unsure of where her head was when it came to him at the moment._

 

_He followed closely, feeling her closeness like a balm to his anxiety, itching to touch her again._

 

_They got to her office and she held the door open for him. He moved passed her, brushing his body against hers as he did, and dropped in one of the chairs across from her desk._

 

_He watched her move to her chair and noticed the way she bit down on her lip and clenched her hands into fists._

 

_“What can I do for you, Princess?” He asked, genuinely wanting to know what it was he could do to fix this._

 

 _The last time they had been together, they had been_ **_right there._ ** _On the precipice of something great. She had melted in his arms and he could feel their heat, even in the way their eyes met._

 

_Now? He wasn’t so sure._

 

**_And it’s all your fault too. Don’t forget that._ **

 

_“What? That can’t be all you have to say.” She said, a little harshly._

 

_She was finally showing some of her cards. She was upset._

 

_Okay, this he could work with._

 

_But if she was upset, that meant she at least cared right?_

 

_He sighed and tipped his head back, wondering how he could fix this. How could he explain his absence without selling out his sister, Lincoln, or his own insecurities?_

 

_“I’m sorry I didn’t call?” He said in a weak attempt at humor._

 

_But then he was unexpectedly distracted from their much-needed conversation by the plaque sitting on her desk._

 

_He picked it up, smiling, and turned to wave it at her._

 

_“What is this? Curator?” He couldn’t stop grinning with pride at her apparent accomplishment._

 

_She’d done it. Curator._

 

_He watched as she smiled softly and straightened her shoulders in her own sense of accomplishment._

 

_“I got a promotion.” She said softly.. “That’s why I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you for all of your help. Because of you, I was able to start a network of my own and now have enough clout in the museum community to draw in pieces and exhibits to the museum so…” She paused, and met his eyes. “Thank you.”_

 

_He was still smiling like a dork as she looked at him and he tried very hard to keep it under control._

 

 _She was thanking_ **_him?_ **

 

 _Didn’t she know that she was_ **_everything?_ ** _That he would’ve done_ **_anything_ ** _to help her get what she wanted._

 

_What she deserved._

 

_“It was my pleasure, Princess.”_

 

_But that was it? That’s why she wanted to see him? Shear pleasantry? A misplaced obligation to thank him for helping her?_

 

_That wasn’t either situation he imagined, and he wasn’t prepared to handle it._

 

_“Well, that was it, really. You can go back to wherever it was you were when you miraculously found out that I needed to see you.” She stood up from her chair and paused. “How did you know anyways?”_

 

_He stood up too, suddenly panicking that she was dismissing him so soon._

 

_He wasn’t ready._

 

_“I got an email from my insurance company. It was kind of weird, actually.” He stuttered out a response and prayed she didn’t notice the way his eyes widened as she moved to the door and opened it._

 

_This couldn’t be it._

 

_But as she stood there, holding the door open for him he realized he really had blown it._

 

_This was how it ended for them._

 

**_“Girls like her… they don’t go for guys like you.”_ **

 

_All of his insecurities threatened to swallow him whole as he started to walk past her._

 

_But in that moment, those same visions of the two of them and what they could be fought back just as intensely . He closed his eyes at the internal conflict happening in his heart._

 

_And suddenly, it wasn’t enough._

 

_He wouldn’t go down without at least fighting for it_

 

_For her._

 

_He turned slowly to meet her eyes._

 

_“Princess.” He said quietly._

 

_She looked up into his eyes and he flushed nervously, his eyes falling to the floor where he would easily fall at her feet if she asked._

 

_“Yeah?” She asked._

 

_He heard the breathy quality of it and his mind raced and his fingers twitched._

 

_“Would you-” He paused again, shaking his head, his hand clenching the bottom of his shirt sleeve. “Would you like to get coffee after work?”_

 

_Her breath hitched and he panicked. She was going to turn him down. He had to salvage this._

 

_“I-I mean it doesn’t have to be a date or anything. Not if you don’t want but I-”_

 

_She cut him off with a silencing finger to his lips and his eyes closed, holding back a groan at the feeling of her touch again._

 

_“Bellamy.” She said lowly and he opened his eyes to hers once more. “I would love to.”_

 

_He smiled._

  


_——_

  


_Absolutely nothing could bring him down._

 

_He felt like he was floating on air as he walked to the coffee shop where he would meet Clarke._

 

_She was giving him a chance._

 

 _Them. She was giving_ **_them_ ** _a chance._

 

_Even after all of his fuck-ups._

 

_He couldn’t believe it. He definitely didn’t deserve it._

 

_He was almost there when he heard someone call his name._

 

_“Hey! Bellamy!”_

 

_He looked up to see a familiar brunette running in his direction, crossing the street and avoiding cars like Frogger._

 

_He grinned._

 

_“Raven!”_

 

_She smiled in delight at seeing him and quickly hugged him in greeting._

 

_“How the hell are you, Older Blake? How’s Octavia?”_

 

_He smiled a small smile._

 

_“I’m good. She’s good. Itching to get back to work.”_

 

_Raven laughed loudly._

 

_“Sounds like her. Apparently she’s also being reassigned to white collar with the rest of us. Going to be my boss, even.”  She said through her grin._

 

_“Yepp. My only consolation is that Lincoln is here in Illinois, so at least they’re not going to be  traveling all across Europe together.”_

 

_Raven laughed lightly and pushed him back slightly._

 

_“Stop it, ass. She’s a grown up.”_

 

_He grinned._

 

_“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”_

 

_“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Well don’t worry. We’ll take care of her. No worries.”_

 

_Bellamy nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets._

 

_“Yeah I know you all will. I just worry. Especially after the last time.”_

 

_Ravens grin faded into an understanding grimace._

 

_“It’s part of the job. But we won’t let it happen. Not as long as she’s with us.”_

 

_Bellamy sighed._

 

_“Thanks. That’s nice to hear.” He looked down at his watch. “But I have to go or I’m gonna be late.”_

 

_Ravens eyebrow raised in question._

 

_“Late for what?”_

 

_Bellamy could feel himself blush._

 

_“None of your business, Reyes.”_

 

_She grinned and he knew he was shit at hiding his feelings._

 

_“Don’t tell me. That poor girl actually said yes!”_

 

_“Goodbye, Raven.” He almost growled as he walked away._

 

_“Byyyyyye, Blake! Have fun!”_

 

_He rolled his eyes as he kept walking, only a block away from the coffee shop._

 

_When he saw the sign from across the street, he couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted inside of him, his heart hammering at the thought of finally getting this chance with Clarke._

 

_He looked up to watch traffic as he crossed the street and finally raised his gaze when he was on the median between the four lanes._

 

_There she was, sitting in the window._

 

_She looked beautiful, even after a long day at work._

 

_He started to continue his cross when he glanced over and noticed… she wasn’t alone._

 

_It was the guy. The one from the party. The asshole who told him Clarke wasn’t interested._

 

_The butterflies quickly morphed into something unrecognizable. An uncertainty that he had never before experienced._

 

 _What was this? A Set up of some sort? Were they dating? Was Clarke just being nice? Was she just being_ **_mean?_ ** _Was he supposed to show up, see them together, and this was her way of getting back at him for disappearing?_

 

_He swallowed down the sudden onset of sadness and grief._

 

_She wouldn't do that, would she?_

 

_He turned quickly, digging his head into the palms of his hands, willing himself to buck the fuck up and just go over there. Talk to her. See what was going on._

 

 _But when he turned back around, the man was still there, and everything in him told him to_ **_run._ **

 

_So he did._

  


\----

  


She could feel the anger building as she rushed into the lobby.

 

“Clarke!” She heard Bellamy call from behind her. “Come on, Princess, aren’t we a little ways past this whole ‘run off when we get upset without waiting for an explanation’ thing?”

 

She huffed and turned to face him.

 

“Let’s just get our keys.”

 

He sighed and nodded, walking her to the front desk to check in.

 

Two minutes later, they had what they needed and they walked side by side to the elevators.

 

“Are you going to let us have a conversation now?” He asked as the doors opened and she made her way inside.

 

She twisted to face him, her eyes angry.

 

“You can’t be serious. All I’ve EVER wanted from you was a conversation, Bellamy Blake. For almost three years!” She crossed her arms across her chest. “Excuse me for believing that this time wouldn’t be different from any other time.”

 

The elevator doors opened once more and she made her way down the hallway, swiping the card beside the door and opening the door.

 

She paused when she stepped inside and Bellamy looked over her shoulder at the giant King-sized bed in the room.

 

He cleared his throat.

 

“I uh.” He shifted from one foot to another. “I made the reservation when I thought-”

 

Another pause.

 

“I thought-”

 

She turned around suddenly, shushing him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was soft and sweet and she felt it all the way to her toes.

 

When she backed away, she rested her head on his chest and sighed deeply.

 

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I want to hear you. I _need_ to hear you.” She gulped, looking back up into his eyes. “If you’re ready to share.”

 

He leaned down, capturing her lips with his, picking her up off the ground to allow her to wrap her legs around his waist as he carried them in the room and shut the door.

 

“We’ll talk.” He promised, grumbling against her lips. “But first, I’m thinking make-up sex.”

 

She giggled against his lips.

 

“We haven’t gotten to do that yet, I suppose.” She murmured, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth playfully.

 

“MmMm” He agreed as he kissed her once more. He placed her on the edge of the bed softly. Pulling away and breathing heavily, he unbuttoned and pulled her jeans down her legs. “You wouldn’t rob us of the opportunity, would you?”

 

She giggled as she helped him remove her jeans and underwear completely. She sat up and pulled him toward her. Her hands moved slowly up his chest, feeling the dips and grooves underneath his t-shirt, enjoying the feel of him, until he took it by the collar and removed it in one swift move.

 

“I’ve always thought that was hot.” She said, removing her own shirt as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans and underwear to the floor.

 

She gulped, taking in his fully naked body, and wondered if she would ever get used to the way he made her feel. She wasn’t accustomed to physically _craving_ someone until she met Bellamy. And now that she’d had a taste of him, she couldn’t imagine ever letting go of it. He was like a high.

 

“You’ve always thought what was hot, Princess?” He asked softly, his fingers reaching to unhook her bra and flinging it to the side of the room.

 

She backed up on the bed, pulling him with her by the forearm. Tracing the veins, she followed them with her fingertips all the way up to his shoulders. She smiled playfully at his amused expression.

 

“When guys take their shirts off by the collar.”

 

Bellamy laughed then, a full laugh, that shook her to her core and all she wanted in that moment was to show him how much she loved that laugh.

 

She reached up, bringing his head down to hers, encouraging him to devour her the way he usually did. He was only too happy to cooperate, pushing her back into the mattress heatedly.

 

“Mmmm.” She moaned as his lips left hers to trail down her sternum, his hands gripping her breasts, kneading them softly, his thumbs tracing back and forth over her nipples.

 

He nuzzled his face between them and she giggled in spite of herself.

 

“Something funny, Princess?” He asked, looking up at her as his mouth enveloped one of her nipples, pulling a groan from her in spite of her efforts to contain it.

 

“Mmm no. Nothing funny.” She whispered as she closed her eyes and pushed her hips up against his chest so he could feel her wetness against his skin.

 

“Thought so.” He murmured, gripping her hips and turning her over, face-first into the mattress.

 

She felt his fingers slide through her slick folds, moving to her entrance and stretching her open suddenly. Groaning, she pushed back against him, searching for the pressure, the fullness that only he could provide.

 

“Eager tonight, Princess.” His fingers continued preparing her for his entrance and she panted heavily into the sheets. “Ready for my dick so soon?”

 

“Please, Bellamy.” She moaned, her fingers gripped the sheets tightly and her knees were sliding on the soft sheets.

 

She heard him chuckle when he removed his fingers and she whimpered at the emptiness.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He said, his voice low, his words a promise.

 

And she believed him.

 

Not just in the bedroom, either. She knew that Bellamy would always take care of her, even if she didn’t have all the answers yet.

 

She felt the head of his cock brush up and down through her wetness before he reached her core and entered slowly.

 

“Oh God.” She couldn’t contain her gasp. Everytime was like the first time with Bellamy and she wondered if it would ever change. Would she ever get used to the feeling of him stretching her open, reaching the deepest parts of her that she could never dream of satisfying?

 

“That’s it.” He whispered, bottoming out inside of her. “Always so good for me.” His hand rubbed up and down her spine, massaging the skin there.

 

She suddenly found herself picked up in his arms, her back to his chest.

 

His arms kept her upright as he started thrusting into her slowly.

 

The moans were coming more frequently now as her hand gripped his hair tightly. His lips were placing light kisses in the side of her neck and his left hand gripped her breast, teasing her nipple.

 

“Bellamy” She groaned, close to her peak and seeking just a little bit more.

 

“I got you.” His voice was throaty and raw as his thrusts became deeper and more frequent, the sweat of their two bodies providing even more slickness between the two of them.

 

His right hand moved from her waist to her clit, rubbing it lightly in small circles. She whimpered at the added stimulation and cried out as she found herself suddenly shaking with her orgasm.

 

She collapsed onto the mattress, Bellamy following her, his chest against her back as he continued thrusting into her, his thrusts more shallow as he chased his own release. She closed her eyes, and gasped, her sensitive entrance still gripping him tightly.

 

He suddenly stilled inside of her, coming along her walls, coating her insides.

 

She felt light kisses on her shoulder as his nose rubbed back and forth on the skin there.

 

“Ready to talk, Princess?”

 

“Ready when you are.” She smiled at him softly over her shoulder.

  


-

  


Once they had cleaned up and retired back to the bed, Bellamy leaned against the headboard while Clarke laid her head in his lap.

 

She could get used to this, she realized.

 

Not just the sex thing (Although that was pretty great), but the whole casual intimacy with Bellamy thing.

 

“I didn’t abandon you, Clarke.” His voice brought her out of her thoughts and she turned so that she was facing up at him. “I didn’t even want to _leave_ you.”

 

His voice was so earnest that she couldn’t help the frown that formed on her lips.

 

“So why _did_ you?”

 

He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

 

“Octavia. She was on a mission and it went wrong. I got a phone call from Lincoln that night at the party letting me know that she was in the hospital.” He paused and she watched his adam’s apple bob. “I left immediately to tend to her. That’s where I was for six months. She almost died.”

 

_Octavia’s Recovery._

 

She remembered Roan mentioning that now. This is what he meant.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

He chuckled mirthlessly.

 

“Initially, because I couldn’t blow Octavia’s cover with the FBI. And then it became more than that. I ran into Finn, you see.”

 

She sat up then, looking at him straight on.

 

“Finn? What? I didn’t even _know_ Finn then.”

 

“He was at your mother’s party that night. When you left the balcony, he cornered me. Told me that someone like you would never go for someone like me.”

 

She felt blind, hot rage pool behind her eyes as he said that. She knew that Finn had been a photographer at her mother’s parties before they dated. That was how he knew her.

 

She had no idea he had ever even _met_ Bellamy.

 

“I shouldn’t have listened to him, but I did. I never thought I deserved you anyways. So I used his words and Octavia’s recovery as an excuse to stay away, afraid of rejection.”

 

Her palm was cupping his cheek before she could even think about it.

 

“Bellamy.” She murmured,

 

He looked into her eyes.

 

“But I was weak, turns out. I came back the second I had an excuse to. I got an email from my company saying you needed me. Granted, we now know that was Roan meddling.” He chuckled, bringing his hand up to hers, holding it, and placing it in his lap. “I knew that email was weird. Anyways. We set up our date and I thought _finally_ it was our chance.”

 

He breathed out and she waited eagerly to hear what came next.

 

“And then I got there and… you weren’t alone.”

 

She paused, her face tilting in confusion as she tried to understand what he was saying.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean you weren’t alone in the coffee shop.” He sighed. “You were with Finn.”

 

She gasped as she realized what he meant. That day at the coffee shop when she had met Finn. It couldn’t have lasted more than two minutes, but somehow, Bellamy had witnessed it.

 

Un-fucking-Believable.

 

“Bellamy. _He_ came up to _me_ that day. I didn’t even know him before then. He was at the coffee shop at the same time.”

 

He nodded, gripping her hand in his.

 

“Yeah, I can see something like that now. At the time, all I could see was conspiracy. That he and you were a thing and he was your way of getting back at me for leaving, so… I left.”

 

Clarke could feel the tears tracing down her cheeks as he told his story, hating all the time they wasted apart over a _stupid misunderstanding._ It was like their entire relationship was trying to overcome these misunderstandings over and over again.

 

His hand came up and wiped the tears off her face, his fingers running through her hair.

 

“I stayed away because I didn’t think it was healthy for me.” He said softly. “Being so in love with a woman who didn’t feel the same. I needed to get away, to forget about you. So I disappeared.”

 

Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she recognized the momentous of this moment, but she was still so eager for more information.

 

“But you came back.”

 

He smiled slightly, gripped her hair, and bringing her in close.

 

“Yeah, Princess. I did.”

 

She smiled.

  


\----

  


**_1 Year Ago_ **

  


_He winced as the door slammed more loudly than he intended when he returned to Lincoln’s house and Octavia jumped where she was sitting on the couch._

 

_“Bell. What the hell? Why are you home so early? I thought for sure I wouldn’t see you again today.”_

 

_He sat down heavily on the end of the couch and leaned over, placing his head in his hands._

 

_“It’s over. I can’t go back.”_

 

_“What are you talking about, asshole? Stop being dramatic, it was a first date for fuck’s sake.”_

 

_“No, Octavia. I’m serious.”_

 

_He sat up then and told her what happened. How the guy from the party was miraculously at the coffee shop. What were the chances that it was coincidence?_

 

 _“One,” Octavia started. “If everything you and Lincoln have told me about this girl is true, then I_ **_highly_ ** _doubt this is all some big conspiracy theory to hurt your feelings. Two, this guy sounds like a dick and I also doubt she would choose him over you. Three, get the fuck back to that coffee shop and_ **_talk_ ** _to her, you_ **_idiot.”_ **

 

_Deep down, he knew everything she said was true, but he was too far gone to actually consider what she saying._

 

_“No. No more. I can’t keep up this vicious cycle, O. Maybe it just isn’t meant to be.”_

 

_He looked up to find her staring at him with pity and he had to look away. That definitely wasn’t what he wanted from her._

 

_“Fine. If you’re going to be an asshole and run from your issues, then I’ve got a job for you.”_

 

_His head jerked up, staring at her curiously._

 

 _“My first assignment for white collar just came in and it’s art recovery.” She plopped a file on the coffee table in front of them and he picked it up. “Apparently, some really famous painting that went missing_ **_decades_ ** _ago has resurfaced. Analysts picked up murmurings of it on chatter.”_

 

_He opened the folder and looked through the file._

 

 _“‘_ **_The Concert?’_ ** _” He said in confusion. “Vermeer?”_

 

_Octavia shrugged._

 

_“The hell if I know. You’re the art expert in this family, I just got moved to a new detail. The point is, the painting is coming up for air for the first time since it went missing in 1990 and it’s my team’s job to get to it before the bad guys take it back underground again.”_

 

_He looked up at her then._

 

 _“Considering you’re already a member of that community and know more about art than I can cram in the next week before we leave… If you’re_ **_really_ ** _looking for a distraction, I have one for you.”_

 

_He looked back at the folder, eyes drawn in concentration._

 

_If he did this, went in with Octavia on this mission, who knew when he would have a chance to come back to Illinois? It could be months, years even._

 

_“What do you need me to do?”_

  


\----

  


They rolled up to the museum exhibit in some town car that Bellamy had arranged for.

 

They had an image to portray, apparently.

 

Tickets to this exhibit opening were exclusive, and Clarke didn’t want to know how Bellamy was able to get two for them.

 

Exiting the vehicle first, Bellamy came around to her car door and held out his hand for her, helping her from the vehicle.

 

“Excited?” He said with an amused smirk.

 

She knew she was practically vibrating with her excitement. An opening of an exhibit in _Spain?_ Hell yeah, she was excited.

 

Walking in arm in arm, they both started scouting for anyone suspicious looking in the Vermeer exhibit.

 

“Alright, ready to make the rounds?” He asked, his eyes cutting to a man standing next to the window.

 

“Actually, do you mind if I use the restroom first? I didn’t go before we left.”

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes.

 

“Of course you didn’t, Princess.”

 

She punched him in the shoulder.

 

“Be nice.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Or I’ll take this dress off of _myself_ later.”

 

He eyed the red number she was wearing up and down, smirked, and leaned in even more, kissing her on the cheek.

 

“We’ll see about that, won’t we, Princess?”

 

She huffed and turned, heading in the direction where she had seen the bathroom sign hanging from the ceiling earlier.

 

As she walked, she felt her phone vibrate in her thigh strap, so she huddled off to the side of the room in a little alcove to pull her dress up to retrieve it.

 

She saw her mom’s name on the screen and sighed in annoyance, having forgotten that she’d even texted her mother earlier about providing Finn with her location.

 

 **Abby Griffin** _Sweetie, what are you talking about? I haven’t heard from your ex-boyfriend._

 

She re-read the text message.

 

_Wait. What?_

 

Suddenly, a hand covered her mouth with a white cloth, and before she could even scream, everything went black.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Evil Cackling*
> 
> I mean, right?
> 
> Byeeeeee, Clarke!
> 
> So! Who took Clarke? Where are they taking her? What was Octavia's mission for Bellamy? 
> 
> Every time I answer a question, I provide you with ten more LOL
> 
> I laugh lovingly, of course.
> 
> There are THREE chapters and an epilogue left. That's it.
> 
> Things are going to start wrapping up... The question is, how will they wrap up?
> 
> And where does the Prologue fit into all of this?
> 
> Leave me a comment so I can see all of your amazing guesses and theories!
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time, my friends!
> 
> Follow me on Twitter @MallidayWrites


	17. The Rebel King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to preface this chapter by telling you how confused you're going to be but instead, I will say this:
> 
> Remember that whole thing where I tell you answers and then I give you more questions? 
> 
> Keep that in mind.
> 
> Because this is the absolute last chapter in which that occurs.
> 
> Also, this is the LAST chapter with flashbacks. And yes, I purposely leave information out of the flashbacks here. 
> 
> It's not because I don't love you all, but because I want you to be as mind-fucked as possible.
> 
> *Kisses*
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

Five hours.

 

That’s how long Clarke has been missing.

 

Octavia and the rest of her team had shut down the museum, scouring every room for any sign of where she had disappeared to.

 

He had been questioned by Octavia at least twice on why he was so calm.

 

But he had to keep up a good face.

 

He had to.

 

For her sake and for Clarke's. 

 

His story was pretty straight forward.

 

They came to the museum planning to scope out the Vermeer and see if they could recognize anyone as The Rebel King. Clarke went to the bathroom and never returned, and he called in O immediately.

 

His heart was pounding in his chest, and every hour she was gone, it sped up, his anxiety overwhelming him.

 

As he walked around the room that housed the Vermeer, he tried to see the area the way Octavia did, objectively. Looking for anything that could give Clarke’s abductor away.

 

“Nothing in the bathroom.” He heard Octavia say as she came around the corner, adjusting her latex gloves as she went. “I doubt she was taken in there. No trace evidence at all. We need to shift our focus to her walk to and from the bathroom.”

 

He nodded but kept his thoughts to himself.

 

Raven came up then, ponytail swinging, notepad in hand.

 

“Talked to the museum manager. Real piece, that one. Something about how we’re messing up his exhibit’s opening night.”

 

Bellamy couldn’t contain his eye roll at that. Of course he would be more concerned with his own profit margin than the life of someone who had vanished into thin air within the walls of the museum.

 

Someone who, despite his best efforts otherwise, he had fallen so hopelessly in love with.

 

He shook his head, frustrated with himself.

 

Focus, Blake. Keep your eyes open.

 

“Anyway, he said that we need a court order to access their surveillance footage.” Raven sighed. “You know, it’s assholes like this one that make me want to _find_ something to charge him with. It’s like, why even keep it from us unless he’s trying to hide something? Maybe _he’s_ The Rebel King.”

 

His eyes flickered up to meet Octavia’s and she quickly diverted hers elsewhere.

 

“It’s fine, Raven. I have Judge Booth on my speed dial. I’ll have one in an hour, tops.”

 

Raven nodded and walked away toward where Shaw and Monty were speaking in the corner of the room, outlining possible routes Clarke had taken to the restroom.

 

“We’re going to find her, Bellamy.”

 

He looked up at his sister who was looking at him so earnestly, he almost felt guilty.

 

“I know, O.”

 

They were interrupted by the sound of his phone going off in his pocket.

 

He patted down his pockets, trying to remember which one he’d stuck it in. When he found it, he brought it closer so he could read the incoming message.

 

 **Roan** _What the fuck is going on, Blake? Where’s Clarke? Is this part of the plan?_

 

He shoved it back in his pocket and growled under his breath. He definitely didn’t need Roan’s nosey ass in his business right now.

 

Walking slowly to where he and Clarke had been standing when they separated, he pursed his lips and glanced in the direction that she had gone.

 

He stepped carefully, taking his time, tracing the most probable path.

 

If she wasn’t taken from the bathroom, where would be the easiest place to sneak up on her?

 

He walked in the direction of the women’s restroom, eyeing the walls with interest, when suddenly he paused.

 

There.

 

A small alcove in the wall. Small enough to miss if you weren’t looking for it but big enough that someone could hide inside.

 

He stepped into the opening of the alcove and peeked inside, a bright EXIT sign shining from the end of the small hallway above a door.

 

Almost running to the door, he flung it open and looked around.

 

It was an alleyway. A very dirty, not well-traveled alleyway. Looking to his right, he noticed that the alley led to the side of the building, the sidewalk only a few steps away.

 

This was where she was taken, he was sure of it.

 

Looking around, he strained his eyes for any sign of Clarke’s abduction.

 

A glint against the brick wall beside the garbage container caught his eye.

 

He walked forward, looking around to see if anyone was around, and picked up the object.

 

It was Clarke’s cell phone.

 

_Well, so much for Monty and Jasper trying to track her location that way._

 

A crinkling sound below his shoe caught his attention and he looked down to find a small piece of paper that he’d stepped on.

 

Picking it up, he opened the well-worn paper, and felt his eyebrows knit in concentration before they parted in surprise.

 

_Does this mean?..._

 

The sudden sound of a cat jumping off the garbage container made him jump and look around yet again. He quickly shoved the paper into his pocket, out of sight, and turned his attention back to the phone.

 

He swiped the screen, suddenly more anxious than ever, only to find that the phone was locked. As close as he and Clarke had become, he didn’t know her password.

 

Sighing, he recognized that he would need Octavia’s assistance with this particular task.

 

He weighed his options.

 

He couldn’t get into her phone without Octavia, but he also needed to know what was on this phone _before_ Octavia.

 

His eyes bore into the metal door he had exited from as he contemplated and finally made his decision.

  


\----

  


**_Not so long ago_ **

 

_A year._

 

_That’s how long he’d been gone._

 

_He wondered if she’d even missed him._

 

_For as much as he insisted he go on Octavia’s mission to recover the painting as a distraction, he hadn’t actually been able to forget about Clarke._

 

_At all._

 

_In fact, the longer he was gone, the more questions he had._

 

_He knew it wasn’t healthy, obsessing over her the way that he did. Especially when it was so apparent she didn’t feel the same way._

 

_That’s why it had been a year._

 

_Sure, he had been busy, planting information, building an operation, but at every stopping point, every opportunity, his mind drifted to thoughts of her._

 

_The way she smiled at him, how she felt underneath his palms, the smoothness of her skin, the hitch of her breath when he pressed his lips to her neck._

 

_Octavia had been mercifully quiet about the subject, only raising an eyebrow whenever they would come across an associate who knew of Clarke’s existence._

 

_Namely, Murphy._

 

_Fucking Murphy._

 

_Never knew when to keep his mouth shut._

 

_So he hid his wanderings._

 

_He couldn’t let Octavia know how he checked in on her from afar. Keeping track through various social media websites and her presence at the museum, eagerly looking for any bit of information he could get in regards to her life._

 

_And here he was, a year later, reading the Chicago Tribune at the breakfast table of his hotel in London, telling himself he wasn’t looking for her._

 

_But then he found her, nonetheless._

 

_It was a picture. A beautiful picture. His heart ached at the sight of it._

 

_She was at one of her mother’s parties, of course. The society pages just loved to publish anything they could about the lives of the governor’s family members._

 

_It was the caption that caught his eye._

 

**_Governor Griffin’s daughter, Clarke, appeared happy as she represented her mother’s campaign. She arrived with an unknown date [unphotographed] and gave a speech on her mother’s behalf._ **

 

_If he had been reading the newspaper the old fashioned way, it would have crinkled in his hands. As it was, he was reading it from his iPad and he dropped it heavily to the table._

 

_An unknown date?_

 

_Octavia walked up at that moment and he quickly swiped out of the app, closing the newspaper from her perusal._

 

_She eyed him with interest, looking him up and down._

 

_“Looking at the Tribune again?”_

 

_He looked away, out of the window beside the table._

 

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

 

_Octavia snorted._

 

_“Please, you’re not that sneaky, you know.”_

 

_He cringed slightly at the insinuation._

 

 _“Listen, we’re at a lull. You know it, I know it.” She sighed. “_ **_The Concert_ ** _is still underground and hasn’t budged all year. Maybe we should take a break. Just a week or two. I want to go visit Lincoln anyways.”_

 

_He pondered that for a second. A break? He hadn’t been up for air in twelve months. What would he even do with that free time?_

 

**_Go to her._ **

 

_He shut down his own subconscious. Don’t go there, Blake._

 

_“Sure, if that’s what you want.”_

 

_He could feel Octavia’s eyes on him, even as he took a sip of his coffee._

 

_“I think that’s what we both want, big brother.”_

 

_He glared at the table, pouring all his frustration out onto the hard, grained wooden surface._

  


_\----_

  


_He hadn’t_ **_meant_ ** _to find her._

 

_Honestly._

 

_Octavia had mandated the two week break and Pike had been all too delighted to welcome Bellamy back into the fray. His first job in a year and he immediately found himself back in Chicago._

 

_He’d found the painting easily, his criminal network having grown tremendously in the past year, and after he finished a television interview that Pike had insisted on, all he wanted to do was relax._

 

_He threw away his coffee cup and stood to make his way down the sidewalk, taking a stroll by the river, taking in the city that he hadn’t seen in so long, when he heard her laugh._

 

_Even after all this time, it was like his brain was just hard-wired to recognize when she was nearby, immediately turning in her direction._

 

_His heartbeat picked up when he saw her._

 

_She was walking with a man. The same one he had seen her in pictures with before._

 

 **_The lieutenant governor’s son_ ** _, he recalled._

 

_She was side eyeing him as they ducked inside the coffee shop that he had only just left thirty minutes before._

 

_He couldn’t help himself as he followed her, hastily jogging across the street and into the warmth of the building._

 

_They were in line and his stomach burned with jealousy as he watched her stand on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, her smile warm and comforting._

 

**_Turn around now. Don’t do it._ **

 

_Instead of listening to himself, he leaned against the condiment bar and just stared at the back of her head, debating whether or not to make his presence known._

 

 _“Now. What are we going to grab for the post-lunch crawl at work?”_ _He heard her say as she looked up at the menu._

 

_And even though he knew he shouldn’t, though his mind was screaming that she betrayed him and that he was about to leave town again, he found himself speaking up anyways._

 

_“I’ve heard their Zero Bar drink is really good, actually.”_

 

_He watched her shoulders tense up, and although it should have clicked with him that she was anxious to hear him, all he could register was that she recognized his voice._

 

_Her friend turned to give him his attention and he nodded in his direction as Clarke slowly turned to do the same._

 

_He watched as she took him in and he couldn’t help but smile at her reaction. It was nice to know she was still affected by him._

 

_Even after she had decided to move on._

 

_He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to say something, eager to hear her address him in any way. It was pathetic, really, the way he pined for her in spite of her actions the year before._

 

_She cleared her throat._

 

_“Mr. Blake.” She greeted politely, giving him a hard smile._

 

_Even though it felt like a stab in the gut, he smiled, refusing to let her see how her coldness affected him._

 

_He walked toward her._

 

_“Now, Princess, I thought we were at least on a first-name basis by now?” He watched as she visibly reacted to the seductive pitch of his words and wished that just this once, she would give in. Drop her facade and be honest with him._

 

**_Maybe if you would, she would too._ **

 

_“If that were true, wouldn’t you refer to me as Clarke then?”_

 

_His smile became more genuine at her annoyance, having always enjoyed their bickering. It brought back so many memories of the beginning of their relationship, back when they were basically strangers._

 

_“Oh come on, you know you’ll always be the Princess to me.” He whispered, leaning in and willing her to see the sincerity in his eyes. “I like this.” He gestured to her fitted dress. “It looks very nice.”_

 

_It did look nice. Very nice. It would look nicer on his floor, though._

 

_A throat cleared and he shot an annoyed look at her companion._

 

_“Uh, hi.” He held out his hand in greeting “Wells Jaha. Are you a friend of Clarke’s?” He asked politely._

 

_Bellamy stood straighter and reached out to return the man’s handshake._

 

_“You could say that.” He smiled in Clarke’s direction. “We work together on occasion.”_

 

_Clarke snorted and Bellamy turned his attention back to her._

 

_She sighed. “Wells, this is Bellamy. Bellamy this is Wells.” She gave introductions, albeit grudgingly._

 

_He wanted to stand here all day and talk to her, banter with her. He loved her quick wit. But that was all the more reason for him to leave._

 

_Before he could get sucked back in._

 

_“Nice to meet you, Wells.” He said, stepping back, willing himself to walk away. “Unfortunately, I must get going. I have a meeting with my boss about my next case.”_

 

_It was lie, of course, but she didn’t need to know that he hadn’t taken a case in the entire year he’d been gone until three days ago._

 

_Her eyebrows rose. “Ah, yes. Saw that you retrieved the Wood piece. I’m glad that it has found its way back to the proper location.”_

 

_He smiled in spite of himself. “You saw, huh? Found time to watch the news this morning, Princess?”_

 

_She crossed her arms in front of her and huffed. “It was on in the front lobby if you must know and I read the headline in passing.”_

 

_He couldn’t stop smiling, at this point._

 

_“It’s okay, you can admit that you routinely seek me out in your free time.”_

 

_She glared at him and he knew that even though he was giving her a hard time, he secretly hoped that maybe she did seek him out._

 

_“Hardly. More like glean information in between viewings your exploits with every available reporter in the Chicago area while I’m trying to enjoy my morning coffee.”_

 

_He could hear the jealousy in her voice, and a small part of him got perverse satisfaction that she knew what it felt like._

 

_“Careful Princess, some might take your acknowledgement of my personal life to mean you’re jealous.”_

 

_She rolled her eyes. “Good thing we know better then, don’t we?”_

 

_Her friend coughed and both of them turned to give him their attention. “Ah, well, it was nice to meet you, Bellamy. But I’m afraid Clarke and I are next and she needs to get back to the museum.”_

 

_Clarke straightened up and looked away, back to the menu, her face heated in embarrassment._

 

_He laughed. “Of course, you two have an excellent day.” He nodded to her friend. “I’ll be seeing you, Princess.” He winked at her and turned to leave, begrudgingly walking out the door._

  


\----

  


_He knew he shouldn’t be there, visiting Lincoln._

 

_Anytime he visited Lincoln at work, there was a chance of it being misconstrued and Lincoln’s cover being blown._

 

_But he just wanted a chance to see her._

 

 _He left Lincoln’s office after thanking him for the updates on_ **_The Concert_ ** _from his networking circles and made his way to the entrance of the museum._

 

_The sound of someone moving around in the lobby caught his attention and as he rounded the corner, he saw her, tapping away at her phone and swinging her bag on her shoulder. She was obviously going home for the night._

 

_“Headed home?”_

 

_He watched her freeze for a few seconds before she turned to face him._

 

_“You know, stalking is illegal in all 50 states.” She said, but even Bellamy could hear the humor in her voice._

 

_He grinned and stepped toward her._

 

_“Sorry to disappoint, Princess, but not everything is about you.” He raised an eyebrow and she blushed, looking away._

 

_It was so easy, he thought. Forgetting what happened between them and losing himself in their connection._

 

_“Well, forgive me for thinking otherwise, considering I hadn’t seen you in what? A year? Until today, and now I’ve seen you twice within a couple of hours. Hardly seems coincidental.”_

 

_He considered her posture, the bite in her words, and for the first time, he considered that perhaps something was off here._

 

 _The way she regarded him… It was backwards. Shouldn’t he be the one seething over her? Wasn’t_ **_she_ ** _the one that betrayed_ **_him?_ **

 

_He shook his head, clearing his hesitation. “I assure you, it is.” He gestured to the offices. “Just meeting with Jackson about a potential donor who I contacted in the area.”_

 

_It was a lie, but he did often meet with Jackson for work, so at least it was a believable lie. Hopefully, she didn’t call him on it._

 

_“You know, I’m very appreciative of all that you’ve done for our little museum, but isn’t it a little odd for an insurance recovery specialist to be going out of his way to convince people to put their art in museums?”_

 

_His grin slipped and he fumbled._

 

_She knew why he did what he did. That everything he did was for her. It always had been. Why would it be any different now? Even a year later, surely she knew how much he cared about her and her success._

 

_Isn’t that what she took advantage of? His feelings for her? Playing on his insecurities and setting him up as the fool?_

 

_He found himself coming up with yet another lie._

 

_“Not at all. You see, my company believes that our client’s pieces would be better protected if they were in a proper museum. Saves them money, you see.” He leaned against the doorway, watching as her smug smile faltered. “So, Ms. Griffin, why is it that you’re headed home so early today? Not slacking on the job, I hope?”_

 

_“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, but no. Not slacking. Taking off a few minutes early because I’m meeting my boyfriend’s parents this evening.”_

 

_Immediately, his smile was gone, replaced by a look he hoped didn’t relay the devastation he felt at her response. He moved to stand in front of her._

 

_“The guy from today?” He asked, needing to know who it was that she felt was worthy of her commitment._

 

_“No, actually. Wells is just a friend. Best friend, really. Since birth.” She turned and walked away from him, moving behind the lobby’s desk, searching for something._

 

_“You two looked pretty cozy to me. If I were your boyfriend, I would probably be a little threatened.” The pettiness dripped from his observation and he knew he was sulking, his voice low and bothered._

 

_He moved closer, just behind her, and watched as she search fruitlessly. Her eyes glanced up at the tv and he realized she was looking for the remote. Seeing the device in question just above her head on a shelf below the counter, he grabbed it._

 

_“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then, isn’t it?”_

 

_He ignored the jab and turned the tv off, watching as she suddenly looked up to where the noise cut off. He dangled the remote in front of her face and she quickly grabbed it, turning around in a huff._

 

 _She was suddenly so_ **_close_ ** _to him and Bellamy inhaled deeply, watching as she leaned away slightly, her back against the desktop._

 

_He cleared his throat and answered her. “I suppose so, Princess.” He smiled softly, unable to maintain his unbothered demeanor any longer. He nodded his head to the television. “Is that where you watch for signs of my exploits?”_

 

_She rolled her eyes, putting the remote away, and slid past him, out from behind the desk._

 

_“I rarely even remember you exist, Blake. Don’t presume that I sit around waiting for you to come back here because you will be sorely mistaken.”_

 

_He stopped, his face falling instantly at her words. It was as if she knew exactly what to say to hurt him the most._

 

 _Just as the year before, when she had known exactly what to_ **_do_ ** _to hurt him the most._

 

_He swallowed back the disappointment he felt and shrugged his shoulder, moving to join her._

 

_“I don’t expect you to be. Hell, one of these days I thought I might run into you outside the Colosseum or at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. But you seem perfectly content here in Chicago, of all places.”_

 

_He just wanted to hurt her the way she hurt him and the only way he could think to accomplish that was to demean her position, her complacency. It was a low blow and he knew it._

 

_“I’m perfectly happy here, not that it’s any of your business.” She said, her tone sharp, and Bellamy knew he had hit a nerve, so he pressed further._

 

_“Whatever the hell you say, Griffin.” He moved even closer, her anger not deterring his need to be close to her. “Stay here in your miserable little hole of the world, never experiencing life.” He stepped closer. “Go home to your quaint little apartment with your boring boyfriend and forget that there’s a better life out there for someone like you.”_

 

_Her breath hitched when he was mere inches away and he watched her eyes flicker up to his, emotion he couldn’t identify swimming there._

 

_“Someone like me?” She was so quiet he almost thought he misheard her._

 

_Suddenly, he felt terrible, and he ached to reassure her that he was sorry. He reached up and grazed her shoulder and then her face, tucking her hair behind her ear._

 

_“Yeah. Someone like you. Someone with something to offer the world.” He watched as she drank in his assurance, his approval, her skin shivering at his touch._

 

_He cleared his throat and stepped back. He needed to get away now, before he found himself entangled once more._

 

**_You already are, idiot._ **

 

_“Well, Princess. As much fun as this has been, I think it’s time I made my leave.” He took one last look. “May we meet again.”_

 

_And he left._

 

 **_This is the last time_ ** _, he promised himself._

 

_Even his subconscious didn’t believe him._

  


\----

  


“Octavia’s on her way back.” Raven said, peeking her head around the corner to where Bellamy sat with Monty and Jasper. “She says she has the warrant for the surveillance footage. You nerds found anything on the phone?”

 

Monty mumbled under his breath and Jasper looked up.

 

“We’re almost there. Should be another minute or so…”

 

“Got it!” Monty called and Bellamy immediately leaned over, taking the phone off the plug where they had connected it to the high-powered computer Monty had been typing away at, working his magic.

 

He slid open the recently used apps and found the first one on the list - Her text messages.

 

When he opened the app, he saw the last received message was from her mother.

 

 **Abby Griffin** _Sweetie, what are you talking about? I haven’t heard from your ex-boyfriend._

 

He looked up to see Monty and Jasper peeking over his shoulder.

 

“What does that mean?” Monty asked, his voice curious.

 

He cleared his throat, shouldering his way up and out of their proximity, thinking about their run-in at the airport.

 

“It means that Finn Collins somehow knew that Clarke was going to be in Spain, _without_ asking her mother - Which is what he told us at the airport.”

 

Jasper piped up then.

 

“So… he lied?”

 

Bellamy nodded, solemn.

 

“He lied.”

 

He looked at her messages once more, noticing the message from an unknown number. Opening it up, he read the contents, his eyes drifting to the signature.

 

_TRK_

 

Octavia’s voice floated in through the door of the truck and he hastily swiped his thumb across the message, deleting it.

 

“Warrant served, bitches. Let’s go look at some security footage.”

  


-

  


They flipped through the video which was blessedly digital, looking for signs of Clarke and Bellamy on the screen.

 

“So we’re thinking her creepy ex-boyfriend has something to do with this?”

 

“It’s likely.” Bellamy said, his voice low, his eyes steady on the moving pictures.

 

“There.” Raven said, pointing to Bellamy and Clarke, who had just arrived in the car.

 

“Okay, so from this point out, we’re looking for signs of Collins. Check all screens.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes drifted back and forth between the four screens, searching for the mop of hair he had come to loathe so much.

 

“You know, even if we find that Finn _was_ a part of this, can we really assume he’s the one in charge? The man’s an idiot. Why would he show up at the airport and make himself known _before_ he abducted her?” He wondered aloud, cursing himself for his musings as he watched Octavia sit up straighter.

 

“Good point, big brother.” She mumbled. “Although, he could’ve wanted to abduct her there, and failed.”

 

He conceded her point, silently nodding in agreement.

 

_Fucking Finn._

 

Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to a head of dark shaggy hair in the corner of the room next to the alcove.

 

He watched as Finn moved across the screen, looking around suspiciously before he seemingly noticed Clarke and Bellamy enter the museum. Finn ducked into the small alcove.

 

Bellamy pointed to the screen.

 

“He’s there, waiting.”

 

They all watched as Clarke excused herself from Bellamy. She walked into the same room and jerked suddenly, her hand reaching down to where he knew her thigh strap rested.

 

She moved quickly to the little alcove and never reappeared.

 

“Her mother texted.”

 

They turned to look at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

 

“She reached to her thigh strap. She keeps her phone there. Her mother texted, she went to the alcove to retrieve her phone, unknowingly, making Finn’s job even easier. My guess is he was planning to ambush her on her way back from the bathroom, but she walked straight to him.”

 

“Okay.” Octavia clapped her hands together once. “So we know _how_ she disappeared. Now there remains the question of _why_ and to _where._ ”

 

Bellamy looked guiltily toward his pocket, his hand reaching in, his thumb grazing the paper inside.

 

“Isn’t the _why_ that he’s TRK?” Monty asked, his head tilted in confusion.

 

Bellamy’s eyes moved sharply to his sister’s face who, for her part, seemed entirely unaffected.

 

“Maybe. But we shouldn’t make assumptions. The only evidence we have against this TRK guy is that he’s a thief. Kidnapping isn’t his MO.”

 

Bellamy looked at the ground in front him, grinding his teeth.

 

_Fucking Finn._

  


\----

  


_Later that evening, he lay on Lincoln’s couch and pondered his day._

 

_Clarke hadn’t acted like a vindictive conductor of conspiracies._

 

_He was the one who was hurt by her little games. So why did she act like it was the other way around?_

 

_Lincoln and Octavia were out and about, something about a date in the city and him not waiting up._

 

_Whatever, he didn’t think about his little sister’s relationship too closely, for his own sanity._

 

_His phone beeped on the coffee table and he eyed it with disdain, sighing with the inevitability that came with Pike’s renewed interest in his services. He would be impossible to shake now that he had come out of hiding._

 

_However, when he open his messages, it wasn’t a message from Pike._

  


**_Good Evening._ **

 

**_The Concert has made itself known once more. If you want it to be found before it disappears for yet another 30 years, meet me tomorrow at the Corner of 29th and Indiana next to Dunbar Park._ **

 

**_A friend._ **

 

_He sat up quickly, his head swimming._

 

_What? Could it really be, that after all this time, an actual lead had made its way into his inbox._

 

_He froze suddenly when he noticed something peculiar._

 

 _The email was sent to his_ **_personal_ ** _inbox._

 

_The one attached to Bellamy Blake._

 

_His blood ran cold at the implication._

 

_Immediately, he dialed Octavia’s number._

 

_“This better be important, ass, I haven’t seen Lincoln in ages.”_

 

 _“O.” His voice was gruff. “It’s_ **_The Concert._ ** _”_

 

_“What?” He had his sister’s attention._

 

_“I just got an email about a meet-up for information.”_

 

_“Bell! This is great! This is what we’ve been waiting for!”_

 

 _“No, O, you don’t understand. The email. It came to my_ **_personal_ ** _address.”_

 

_The line was silent as Octavia thought through the same process he had._

 

_“Okay, don’t panic. That doesn’t have to mean anything. This could just be someone who thinks you will find it interesting, now that you’ve surfaced again and are taking cases.”_

 

_“Yeah, okay, and what is the likelihood of that versus the alternative?”_

 

_She was silent as she pondered._

 

_“Listen, Bell. It doesn’t do us any good to jump to conclusions. Just go to the meet and take it from there. You have the emergency code, should you need it.”_

 

_He exhaled and leaned back against the back of the couch._

 

_“Right.” He shook his head. “You’re right. I’ll go and report back.”_

 

_“Be safe, big brother. Don’t get killed.”_

 

_He rolled his eyes._

 

_“I’ll try.”_

  


\----

  


Bellamy excused himself from the truck, walking in the direction of the restroom inside the museum.

 

He paused at the alcove where Clarke had disappeared, placing his hands on the wall and breathing deeply.

 

He needed to get away.

 

The longer he stayed here, the more likely it was that Octavia caught on and that was the _last_ thing he needed.

 

She wouldn’t understand at all.

 

He looked back toward the museum, checking to make sure that no one was there before he made his way to the door that led back to the alleyway.

 

His hands were surprisingly steady as he removed his phone from his pocket and dialed the number wordlessly.

 

“Shut up.” He growled into the piece at the voice that immediately started talking. “I need to meet you. Now.”

  


 

* * *

  
  


**_Somewhere Closeby_ **

 

The man picked up his beer from the tabletop and took a large swig before dropping it with a plop on the wooden surface once more.

 

Sighing, he leaned back against the leather seat and stared at the ceiling.

 

Fucking asshole was lucky he was nearby already.

 

But he still fully planned on heading back to Ireland three hours from now. Emori was waiting and now that she had finally taken him back, he wasn’t about to upset her again.

 

Not returning home when he said he would?

 

Yeah, that was a chance Murphy wasn’t willing to take.

 

He looked at his watch and eyed the door to the bar in exasperation. If he wasn’t here in the next hour, he was out.

 

Friendship be damned.

 

As if he could read his mind, at that moment, the door opened and he watched as his friend entered the bar.

 

He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, and trying to shake excess rain from his dark curls. He looked up at Murphy, sitting in the corner and smirked, walking in his direction.

 

Murphy had many people over the years who questioned his friendship with Bellamy Blake, but he didn’t owe those people explanations.

 

When the man in question reached his table and took the seat across from him, Murphy immediately started the conversation, eager to get back to his home, back to Emori.

 

“Well, if it isn’t The Rebel King, himself. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ......
> 
> Yeah, you read that correctly. No need in re-reading.
> 
> I mean, unless you want to. *Shrugs*
> 
> Mind-fucked, yet?
> 
> *Muah ha ha*
> 
> Here's the dealio - Next week starts the FINAL two chapters, meaning all questions will be answered.
> 
> SO, in the meantime, please comment telling me your thoughts and guesses about what the fuck is happening.
> 
> Epilogue will be the final chapter.
> 
> Muah!
> 
> See you next Sunday!


	18. Usurpation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It all ends here, people.
> 
> Without further ado...
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Usurpation**

 

The fog in her brain lingered, even as she regained consciousness.

 

Blinking, she looked around the room - Or at least tried to. 

 

She must’ve been out for a while because her eyesight was less than desired, dots crossing her field of vision, the dimness of the lighting not helping matters.

 

Then again, maybe the lights weren’t that dim. Maybe she was just seeing them through some sort of haze.

 

Opening her eyes wider, trying to wake the fuck up, it occurred to her that her head was fucking  _ killing  _ her.

 

_ What the fuck? _

 

What happened? Where was she?

 

She strained, trying to remember the last thing that had happened before she fell asleep.

 

And only then did she realize she wasn’t in her comfortable bed at the hotel room. And she definitely didn’t feel Bellamy’s warm presence anywhere around her.

 

In fact, she was slowly starting to realize that - She was in a chair?

 

She jerked upright at that, pulling her hands around to push the hair out of her face. 

 

Except, she couldn’t move her hands. They were bound together with something, forced behind the chair.

 

Whimpering, she wiggled around trying to set herself free. 

 

Terrified, she couldn’t even think about how she ended up where she was, only that she needed to get out.

 

The sound of heavy metal slamming against the wall caused her to cry out and instinctively flinch backwards against the chair.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re not going to get out and the wiggling will only injure your wrists.”

 

The voice. She recognized it. She knew it.

 

“Finn.” Her throat ached as she spoke his name, and for the first time, flashes of memory were coming back to her.

 

She and Bellamy arriving at the museum exhibit, looking around for any sign of TRK. Their conversation. 

 

They finally had a fucking conversation and things were looking up for them for the first time in  _ years. _

 

Going to the bathroom, her mother’s text…

 

Finn. Her mother hadn’t spoken to Finn. He knew where she was because…

 

“You were following me.”

 

She could hear him laugh and she winced at the sound, her eyes closing and her body instinctively moving away from him as she felt him come closer.

 

“Is it really ‘following’ if your target is your girlfriend?”

 

_ Yes, you asshole.  _

 

_ And I broke up with your ass. _

 

“I broke up with your ass.” She couldn’t even be mad that she finally let her subconscious rise to the surface in this particular case, even if her voice sounded terribly scratchy and broken.

 

“True. Totally took me by surprise, I’ll admit.” He finally reached her chair and crouched down in front of her. “Even almost got me fired. Had to promise I would deliver just as good of results without being your boy toy.”

 

_ Fired? What? _

 

“What are you talking about, asshole?” Sure she was probably being a little brave, considering she was the one tied to a chair, but honestly, it was hard to take someone who looked like a One Direction reject seriously in terms of murdery potential.

 

“Fired from my job. Always did have a smart mouth, didn’t you?” He scoffed and stood up. “Well, it won’t be too much longer now and I don’t imagine you’ll be able to deliver those little one-lined quips you love so much.”

 

_ Oh God. _ She drew in a deep breath.  _ I’m going to die. He’s going to kill me. _

 

As the thought came to her, she realized the truth in it, in spite of the fact that she didn’t want to admit it.

 

“Your job as a photographer is really that important to you?” She rasped.

 

Finn laughed louder then, walking to the corner of the room where another chair sat and flipped it around, sitting in it backwards. He was giving her an amused stare that, frankly, made her want to punch his lights out.

 

If she weren’t fucking  _ tied to a chair. _

 

“You really think someone with  _ my  _ talents would be hanging around taking pictures for rich people of power without a reason?” He smiled and shook his head. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

 

Her mind was racing with possible explanations as to why her ex-boyfriend would want her dead, but she was coming up empty. 

 

Unless he was just severely sexually frustrated from their lack of sleeping together.

 

He sighed and leaned against the back of the chair.

 

“Fine. I’ll enlighten you. It’s a little bit more boring that way, but you won’t be around much longer and I kind of want you to know why I put up with your frigid ass for so long.”

 

She couldn’t even find it in herself to respond to his comment even though her brain screamed at her to defend herself.

 

_ Yeah, well, I never wanted to date you either, but the man I  _ **_really_ ** _ wanted broke my heart and disappeared. _

 

“You see, about a year and a half ago, I was approached by my employer. Smart guy… He had a proposition for me. At the time, I was just a petty criminal, taking whatever small job I could, so of course I took him up on it. Said he needed me to follow some girl, get close to her if need be. And do whatever it took to make sure that she never got together with this guy.”

 

She jerked upright at his words, her eyes widening almost comically, had it not been for the severity of her situation.

 

“Yeah,  _ you _ ,  _ Princess. _ ”

 

She wanted to spit at him. 

 

How  _ dare _ he call her that.

 

_ Wait. So Finn isn’t TRK? _

 

“See, I don’t really know what boss man has in store for your boy toy or why he even fucking  _ cares _ about keeping the two of you apart, but he pays really fucking well, so I said okay.” He leaned back against the wall behind him. “You didn’t make it easy, you know. Had to physically step in sooner than I’d planned to that day at the coffee shop. I wanted to make  _ you  _ notice  _ me _ first, but when I found out Blake was back in town, I did what I had to.”

 

_ I never would have noticed you, s _ he spat in her mind.

 

“And then once he disappeared, you were fucking  _ unbearable  _ to be around. So obviously caught up on this guy that, for all you knew, couldn’t care less about you.” He chuckled cruelly then. “Meanwhile, Blake was God knows where in the world, just as miserable as you were. We laughed about it a lot, actually.”

 

She could feel the tears welling up behind her eyelids and she blinked them away before he could notice.

 

“Who’s ‘ _ we?’ _ ” She asked roughly. “What does he have against Bellamy?”

 

He shrugged. 

 

“Would you believe me if I told you I don’t _actually_ know?” He smiled. “We communicate via text and calling. I don’t particularly care _how_ he wants to do it, as long as I get paid. And this time, I was paid to bring you _here_ to wait for _him._ ” His smile was creepy and deranged. “Lucky you.”

 

At that moment, Finn’s phone beeped and he pulled it from his pocket.

 

“Huh. Look at that. I’m being summoned, Princess.” He stood up from his chair and she startled wiggling her wrists again, desperate to break free. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back. Your stay won’t last much longer. You’re only bait, after all.”

 

And with that, he was gone, and Clarke was left there, glaring at his back.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He looked both ways as he approached the front of the bar - Not that he actually expected there to be any cars out at night, in this part of town.

 

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he read the words Murphy had sent him one last time before deciding he was in the right place.

 

_ Bar Clandestino. _

 

He snorted.

 

Very nondescript.

 

His phone buzzed for maybe the thousandth time. 

 

It was Octavia again.

 

He growled and ignored her pleas once more.

 

He knew she wouldn’t give up. Hell, she probably had some sort of tracker on him that he didn’t even know about, but right now, he didn’t care. He had business to take care of, at long last, and her interference would only be a distraction.

 

And a dangerous one at that.

 

Her heard the bell above the bar’s door ding and he moved quickly into the shadows, watching to see who emerged.

 

His heart stopped in his chest when he realized who he was looking at.

 

_ Finn. _

 

_ Stupid, fucking Finn. _

 

The man looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world, stumbling along, obviously having had too much to drink.

 

Bellamy waited until he was a little ways up the sidewalk before he followed him, maintaining a distance, but still close enough to keep up.

 

Octavia would be proud, really. 

 

When they first started their undercover op, he had been  _ terrible  _ at being a criminal.

 

Ironic, almost, that  _ he _ of all people would be such an underperformer on the subject manner.

 

Octavia and Murphy had definitely had their work cut out for them.

 

Finn was still stumbling along. His phone dinged in his hand and Bellamy could hear him swear under his breath as he quickened his pace.

 

Had it been any other situation, he would’ve laughed at how much trouble the other man was having, but in this scenario, all he could do was roll his eyes and keep his mouth shut.

 

Finally, after another five minutes, Finn approached a building. A warehouse that had definitely seen better days.

 

Had Bellamy just been walking by outside, he would’ve surmised that it hadn't been utilized in quite some time, and yet, he watched Finn approach the building with surety, in spite of his drunken state.

 

The man in question pulled out a set of keys, looking to unlock the door and Bellamy decided that now was his best opportunity to approach.

 

Stealthily, he walked up to where Finn was fumbling with his keys. 

 

It occurred to him right before he acted that he probably didn’t even need stealth, the man was so far gone. 

 

But, all the same, he got a sense of satisfaction that Finn never saw it coming when he took the gun from his pocket and knocked him over the side of the head, causing him to collapse to the ground.

 

He bent down and took the keys from Finn’s hand and reached out, feeling for a pulse.

 

He was alive. Not that he would’ve actually cared at this point, but it would be much easier for everyone if he remained that way. 

 

Taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, he dragged Finn to a pipe protruding from the side of the building and cuffed him in place. He took a small instrument from his pocket, flipped a switch and put it in Finn’s shirt pocket.

 

“You’re days of fucking up my life are over, asshole.” He said, his voice low and angry.

 

Keys in hand, he walked to the door Finn had been trying to open. He found the key that looked similar to the lock and, miraculously, opened the door on the first try.

 

Beyond the door, it was…. Black.

 

Hadn’t these people ever heard of  _ lights? _

 

He didn’t want to get his cell phone out for light in case it gave away his presence, so he remained in the darkness, trying his best to stay quiet.

 

The building was eery and the only noise coming from inside was the vague hum of the HVAC in the walls.

 

He felt along the cement, his hands feeling for anything, any kind of door, as he tried to keep his breathing even and steady.

 

He reached what appeared to be a corner as the hallway turned to the left and suddenly, he could see a small sliver of light under a door at the far end of the hallway.

 

Closing his eyes, he willed himself to remain calm as he stayed silent and patient, slowly making his way to the light.

 

When he reached the door, he felt the knob gently, and to his surprise, it opened.

 

It didn’t occur to him that it was odd that the first lit doorway in a super secret, shady villain hideout was unlocked.

 

All his heart could feel was the very real possibility that Clarke was on the other side of the door.

 

However, when he open the door, it wasn’t Clarke at all.

 

It was  _ The Concert. _

 

And he never saw the other man coming.

  
  


* * *

  
  


She must have fallen asleep at some point.

 

The loud noise of a door hitting the wall was the next thing she registered as she looked up.

 

Her eyes were bleary from sleep yet again, but they didn’t seem to be as out of focus as they had been earlier. Apparently, the drugs in her system had at least started to wear off.

 

“Feeling better then, are we?”

 

She blinked sleepily as she registered the change in voice. It didn’t sound like Finn, but… it did sound familiar.

 

“Hm?” She said sleepily, barely registering the change in the height of the shadowed figure in the corner of the room.

 

The voice chuckled and her subconscious yelled.

 

_ Wake up, Griffin! Be alert! _

 

The hairs on her arm began to raise as her body and her mind came together to register the now very real danger that she was in.

 

Before, with Finn, she hadn’t felt this way.

 

She had been annoyed, more than anything. Fully expecting Bellamy to break in at any moment and punch him in the face.

 

This.

 

This was different.

 

“I see now what was so special about you, Clarke Griffin.”

 

The man, whoever he was, had a very slimy voice. It made her acutely uncomfortable, the level of smarmy arrogance that came through his tone.

 

“Before I left, I couldn’t quite figure it out.” He mused and her eyes still strained to make out his likeness in the darkness of the corner he sat in. “But now? After witnessing you galavanting across the continent, never breaking stride as you tackled every challenge?  _ Now _ , I can see it.”

 

Finally, the man stepped out of the shadows and she couldn’t help the instinctual gasp she exhaled when she realized who it was.

 

“ _ McCreary? _ ” Her voice was a mere whisper, a phantom of her actual timbre when she took in his creepy smirk.

 

“It’s been a while, Ms. Griffin. I’ve heard you are doing well in my absence.”

 

_ This doesn’t make any sense. _ Her brain was on overdrive.  _ McCreary is Finn’s boss? _

 

_ McCreary is TRK? _

 

She blinked stupidly, her mouth hanging open in shock.

 

“You see, it was time I made my leave from the museum. Bellamy was coming around  _ far _ too often to see  _ you  _ and I couldn’t risk him seeing me in the halls, recognizing me.”

 

He knows Bellamy.

 

_ Well, of course he does, you idiot. Finn just gave a whole manifesto about their fake relationship being solely for the purpose of TRK trying to keep the two of you apart. _

 

She cursed.

 

_ Pay attention, woman. _

 

“Besides. He and Lincoln were practically  _ grooming _ you for the position.” The man in question smiled, like he had a secret. “I even gave you my recommendation before I left.”

 

Her stomach turned as she considered that this man… this  _ monster _ had  _ anything _ to do with her promotion.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, you earned it.” He pulled the chair from the corner to the center of the room into the light and sat down primly, crossing his legs, almost reminding her of that other asshole, Dante. “Or at least, you and  _ Bellamy _ earned it. Really loves you, that one. Like I said, didn’t see why in the beginning. Pretty face, loves art, sure. But what’s really... _ special _ about you?”

 

She glared at him but willed herself to remain silent. The longer he talked, the more time she bought herself. The more time she bought whoever it was out there who was coming to get her.

 

The more time she bought  _ Bellamy. _

 

“See, I’ve watched Bellamy for years. Have to keep an eye on him. And his sister too. They always were little troublemakers.” He crossed his hands on his lap. “Turned out to be law-abiding citizens with a penchant for catching criminals in the end.” He smiled wryly. “In a way, I take credit for that.”

 

_ I’m so fucking confused. _ Her subconscious lamented.

 

Her confusion must’ve shown on her face because her kidnapper laughed then.

 

“You still don’t know, do you?” He smiled at her like she was a child who was still learning the ways of the world. “So much he still hasn’t told you.” He eyed her with interest. “How does it feel, Ms. Griffin? Knowing that the man you love is keeping a very,  _ very  _ interesting past from you? Even after all you’ve shared?”

 

She couldn’t stop the tears as they fell this time. It was like McCreary knew exactly what would hurt the most between herself and Bellamy. 

 

Their history of concealing themselves from one another.

 

His watched beeped and he brought it to his face to study it. His amused smirk turned into a full-out grin at whatever it was he saw and he stood abruptly, taking her by surprise.

 

“Don’t cry, Ms. Griffin. You’ll be reunited with your love soon.” He walked toward the door before he paused and turned back to her. “Although, I can’t promise you’ll get the answers you’re seeking. It’s about time I wrap this whole thing up, unfortunately.”

 

The door slammed as he made his way out and she screamed loudly at his retreating figure. 

 

In anger, in frustration? - She wasn’t sure.

 

But she screamed.

 

She screamed until her voice was raw and the sobs wouldn’t stop coming.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He jolted up in his seat, his eyes instantly aware and making note of his location.

 

It was obviously a room in the same warehouse, so he hadn’t been moved very far. The cement walls were unpainted and there was a single metal lamp that hung from the ceiling of the room. 

 

He wasn’t quite sure what this building ever housed, but he could see smears of red at the bottom of the walls and his brain instantly stood up and took note.

 

There was one door in the room, so he sat and waited, patient as he could be, watching for someone to entert.

 

Whoever they turned out to be, they had Clarke.

 

And he fully planned on the two of them exiting this situation  _ alive. _

 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the door to open.

 

Unsurprisingly, it was exactly who he expected to see.

 

“You know, I’m a little disappointed, Bellamy, you don’t seem surprised to see me  _ at all _ . And here I thought I had done so well at hiding my identity.” He pouted. “Or should I call you  _ Mr. Blake,  _ instead. I’m hurt, really. Was Kane not a good enough name for you, son?”

 

He had known, of course, who he would find. 

 

The second he and Murphy had thought to look into his father’s continued existence, they had quickly found  _ Bar Clandestino. _ Kane hadn’t even tried to hide it, really. The deed itself was even listed as being under the ownership of one Paxton McCreary. 

 

Cocky, really, considering he should’ve known the name would ring a bell to Bellamy. 

 

He  _ had _ been borderline obsessed with Clarke for  _ years _ , after all.

 

_ Borderline? Really? _

 

He cleared his throat.

 

“Well maybe you’re not as good at covering your tracks as you think you are.” He mused, ignoring his inner admittance. “Your hired-help dropped a piece of paper with your pseudonym on it and what I assume is your burner phone number.” He couldn’t help his smirk at the disgruntled look on his father’s face. “Paxton Kane McCreary. Your ego, dad, is unmatched. Couldn’t even resist throwing your true name in there. Although, I am a little impressed that you managed to stay hidden for so long with a name like that, especially from your former enemies.”

 

Kane leaned against the wall next to the door and eyed his son.

 

“Well, perhaps you’re not as much of a waste as  _ I _ thought  _ you  _ were.” He pursed his lips. “Now, that sister of yours? I’m afraid she’s beyond redemption. A federal agent?” He smiled. “That was all my doing, I assume. You just couldn’t have her turn out to be just like dear old dad, could you?”

 

“You’re not her dad.” Bellamy growled, his instinct to protect Octavia rising fiercely to the surface. 

 

“No, I don’t suppose I am. Thank God for that one, though. My poor mother would shiver in her grave if she knew there was a  _ fed _ in the family.” He rolled his eyes before standing up straight once more. “My feelings  _ were  _ hurt when you decided to change your name to  _ hers _ , however. You’re a  _ Kane _ , son. Your mother’s family name has absolutely no importance  _ at all. _ Why would you ever want to be a  _ Blake?” _

 

He spoke the name like it was a curse word and Bellamy felt a small thrill of satisfaction at having upset the man, even as he felt the fire in his gut at the way Kane referred to his mother.

 

“My mother has done more for me than you  _ ever  _ did.” He said lowly, his voice steady. “The night you died was the best night of my life. Watching you go up in flames was the greatest satisfaction Octavia and I could have ever asked for. And yet-” He paused, watching his father’s eyes narrow in anger. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Octavia’s failed mission. That was you, wasn’t it? She heard you that night. I convinced her that she was hearing things, but it was you. I think I knew it even then, even if I didn’t want to believe it.”

 

He watched his father’s face turn into one of satisfaction.

 

“Why? What is all of this even about? You got your wish, you faked your death, and apparently, you’ve been doing pretty well for yourself. So why now?”

 

The man seemed to contemplate his words before speaking, almost like he was trying to decide whether or not it was even worth it to come clean.

 

“You’re right. I  _ was _ doing well for myself. And for years, that was fine. I had a nice place in the islands, living it up. A peaceful life.” He paused. “And then it wasn’t enough. I have anger issues, as you know.” He stared pointedly at Bellamy.

 

Bellamy clenched his jaw, struggling to remain silent as the man in front of him kept going.

 

“And it just… It irked me, you see. My own son, a child still, was able to ruin my life. And suddenly, I had to make it right.”

 

_ Obviously I didn’t ruin it thoroughly enough. _

 

“So I came back home. And what do I find? Both of my children had moved on. Joined ‘the good guys’ as it were. Octavia had taken up with her  _ coworker _ of all people and you?” He chuckled. “You were pining away over  _ the governor’s daughter. _ ” 

 

He was smiling indulgently at Bellamy and it took everything Bellamy had within him to keep his retorts silent.

 

“Come now, my son. Did you really think that would ever end well?” Kane sighed. “So I got a job at that museum. Just to keep an eye on things. See where my ‘in’ would be. Revenge takes time, you know.” 

 

He tapped his finger against his chin, contemplating.

 

“I needed you to figure out I was alive. You know how I love dramatics.” He grinned. “So I interfered everywhere I could. You were never one for my lifestyle, so you couldn’t even see the signs. Honestly, do you think that miscommunications like the ones you went through happen all the time? But ever the self-loathing one with daddy issues, you just assumed it was all organic. Even after Octavia’s injury!” He paused, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “I thought for sure you’d come find me then.”

 

He moved closer to Bellamy, eyeing him with interest.

 

“But you didn’t. I was annoyed at first, I’ll admit. I wanted this whole charade to be over with. And then the two of you started in on the undercover mission. It was a good idea, I will give you that much. ‘Arrange’ for all of those Vermeers to be ‘stolen’ in an effort to get ‘The Concert’ back to the market. And then suddenly, it hit me.” He snapped his fingers in front of Bellamy’s face. “The perfect plan. I could get my revenge on  _ you _ while also acquiring a piece of art that could set me up for the rest of my life.”

 

His smile was eery and Bellamy could see where this all genuinely  _ did  _ seem brilliant to  _ him _ . 

 

All of this  _ maneuvering _ , all because Bellamy pissed him off and turned his criminal ass in.

 

When, in reality, Kane would’ve been better off staying away.

 

Because Bellamy wasn’t going down without a fight.

 

And he definitely wasn’t going to let anything happen to Clarke.

 

“So when that  _ ridiculous _ moniker of yours started floating around, I decided to just…. Take it.” Kane shrugged. “ _ The Rebel King _ , Bellamy? It sounds like some character from those silly little cartoons you used to watch when you were a child.” He rolled his eyes. “Still, it served its purpose. I got to take credit for your crimes and you got to take credit for mine. It never even occurred to me to take the name until that Azgeda woman figured out I was still alive. When I killed her, it was the perfect opportunity to take over your persona.”

 

Bellamy fumed inwardly, hearing him speak so nonchalantly about Roan’s mother.

 

“And  _ still _ you didn’t notice that someone was pretending to be you. I can’t  _ believe  _ you even came from my genetic pool.”

 

While he didn’t like being called  _ stupid, _ he would happily admit on any day of the week that he was  _ nothing _ like his father. 

 

So he smiled.

 

“Oh, I’m sure that pleases you, doesn’t it? Knowing you’ve disappointed me so?” Kane scoffed. “Fine. You want  _ so badly _ to be a Blake. That’s what you’ll be, Mr. Blake.”

 

Grim satisfaction filled him at his father finally realizing he couldn’t be broken.

 

“So,  _ Mr. Blake, _ when you began your little European adventure, courtesy of one _ Mr.  _ Azgeda,  I knew it was only a matter of time before he caught you up to speed and you finally sensed my presence. I decided I would insert myself in your pathway and  _ finally _ get the painting to myself.”

 

Kane stood up straight and clapped his hands together once. 

 

“And in conclusion… here you are! Finally. The painting is mine and revenge will never be sweeter. Cause you see…” He paused, giving Bellamy his full attention. “You showed your hand. You grew complacent in my death and decided to make yourself vulnerable.”

 

He bent down and whispered in Bellamy’s face. 

 

“Love is weakness.” He brushed Bellamy’s hair from his face and had Bellamy been an outsider he might’ve thought it was because his dad actually cared.

 

But he knew better.

“Even for your own sister. But don’t worry, I’ll get to her soon enough.”

 

Bellamy growled and shook his chair, his hands bound by zip ties. 

 

A beep from Kane’s watch took his attention away and Bellamy watched with satisfaction as his smug face suddenly morphed into outright anger. 

 

“What have you  _ done?” _

 

Bellamy smiled. 

 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He said, his voice full of outright pleasure and surety.

 

Kane walked quickly up to him and grabbed his hair at the back of his head, pulling his head backwards roughly. 

 

Bellamy only winced slightly.

 

“The painting, Bellamy. Where is  _ the painting? _ ”

 

Bellamy clenched his teeth at the pain of his hair being pulled from his scalp.

 

“I thought it was  _ me  _ you wanted? Why should the painting matter?”

 

Kane let go of his head roughly, pulled back his hand, and slapped Bellamy across the face.

 

“Tell me where it is,  _ Blake _ , and I may consider letting your girlfriend go.”

 

“Oh it’s Blake again, is it?” He spat and blood from his cut lip shone brilliantly on the concrete floor. “Take me to Clarke.”

 

Kane rolled his eyes and moved behind Bellamy. He picked him up by his shirt collar, forcing him to stand, his arms scraping against the back of the chair as they were pulled over the rungs of the metal.

 

“Oh, I’ll take you to her, alright. And if you don’t tell me where my fucking painting is, I’ll even let you watch her  _ die. _ ”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


They were running out of time.

 

She knew this. In the deepest parts of her soul, she knew this.

 

Something else she knew was that Bellamy would never have allowed her to go missing and not do something about it.

 

Which worried her.

 

Before, she had been pleased, relieved even. Knowing he was coming to her rescue.

 

Undoubtedly with Octavia in tow.

 

But now?

 

McCreary had been gone for a while. And while that man had always been a creepy, ladder-climbing asshole, this McCreary had been a whole other level of threat. 

 

Chills raced down her spine as she recalled the way he had spoken to her.

 

**_“Although, I can’t promise you’ll get the answers you’re seeking. It’s about time I wrap this whole thing up, unfortunately.”_ **

 

At this point, she really didn’t give a shit if she had all the answers from Bellamy.

 

Was she a little fucking peeved that there was some super secret part of his identity that involved a criminal mastermind who wanted him dead?

 

Maybe.

 

Ugh.

 

_ I swear to God, if we get out of this damned situation alive I am going to fucking kill him _ .

 

She couldn’t help the thought as she struggled against what she now realized were zip ties holding her hands together behind her back.

 

Even still, she admonished herself for even thinking that particular thought. 

 

And really, if she had just ignored that cryptic ass email, she wouldn’t even be  _ in _ this situation.

 

She wouldn’t be in Spain.

 

She wouldn’t be tied to a fucking chair.

 

And she  _ definitely _ wouldn’t be with Bellamy Blake.

 

_ Stop pretending you still hate him, idiot _ . The same voice scolded, but she ignored it. Now was not the time to be thinking about Bellamy or any feelings that she may or may not have ever gotten to admit to.

 

And yet…

 

Even after all of this, she wouldn’t change anything.

 

She sighed roughly and looked hastily to the only door to the room as she moved her hands back and forth, trying to stretch her restraints enough to release her hands.

 

She thought now about how her mother had sent her a video on how to escape this exact same situation when she was in her early 20s and still in college, but like an idiot, she had scoffed and sent the email to her trash folder.

 

_ Well, maybe you owe her an apology and maybe from now on, you should take her more seriously. Or at least search for shit like this before you dive headfirst into a fucking mission to recover stolen art from an underground black market kingpin _ .  _ You had plenty of time at the hotel to prepare for these stupid missions. _

 

She continued to struggle and glared meaningfully at the door as if it were the embodiment of her taunting subconscious. If this trip had taught her anything, it was that she really needed to get a better control over her conscience and its annoying observations to her psyche.

 

At that moment, the door she was glaring at burst open and in walked said underworld kingpin, and he kicked Bellamy to the floor in front of him in the small room.

 

She couldn’t contain the sudden inhale at seeing him. Her eyes searched him quickly, taking in anything and everything she could see. He looked mostly unharmed except for a small cut on his bottom lip, but her heart started hammering faster at the sight of him in danger.

 

He was here. He came for her.

 

She felt like sobbing in happiness, even if it appeared that he was losing whatever spat was happening between him and McCreary.

 

Surely he had a plan. Right?

 

And where the fuck was Octavia and her team?

 

He spat on the ground. Clarke could see blood mixed in with the spit, and she gasped in panic.

 

“You know, I can fucking walk, you asshole. No need to break my kneecaps in the process.” Bellamy growled at McCreary.

 

_ Shut the fuck up, Bellamy!  _ What the fuck was  _ wrong _ with him? Did he want to die?

 

_ We can’t die. Not here. Not now. I’m not ready. _

 

McCreary smirked. “I’m aware. This way is much more fun.” He brought his gun up to Bellamy’s head and pointed it straight between his eyes. “I’m afraid my sense of humor has reached its end. Where is the painting,  _ Mr. Blake _ ?” He said Bellamy’s name with a venom that scared her.

 

_What?_ _What’s he talking about?_ Her thoughts were coming so fast she couldn’t think straight as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

 

_ Bellamy has the painting? _

 

Where was it? How did he get it?

 

Bellamy smirked. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” He turned to look at Clarke with a heated stare, obviously trying to convey something to her, but at the moment she couldn’t figure out what he meant.

 

_ What is he trying to tell me? _

 

“Bellamy, what’s he talking about?” Clarke said shakily. Her voice was all but gone due to her earlier screaming, and seeing the man she loved on his knees with a gun to his head was doing nothing to help.

 

This wasn’t how this was supposed to end.

 

They were supposed to go on this adventure, see the world, find the painting, and Clarke was  _ supposed  _ to return to her little museum, to her boring little life, never to see Bellamy again.

 

It was never meant to end this way.

 

But as she thought frantically about what  _ should  _ have been, she knew that she was also  _ wrong. _

 

How she could have  _ ever  _ thought that this adventure would end that way was beyond her.

 

Because she was far past letting Bellamy Blake go once more. 

 

She had done it so many times in her life, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to do it again.

 

Maybe a part of her had always known that.

 

That the two of them weren’t meant to wander this earth separately.

 

That they would always find their way back to one another, even with a million outsiders conspiring against them.

 

That the two of them were meant for a greater pursuit in life than the one she had originally planned for.

 

McCreary turned his gun on Clarke then.

 

“Unfortunately for you, I now find myself only in need of _ Mr. Blake _ , here. So. It was nice knowing you, Ms. Griffin.” The sadistic bastard prefaced.

 

_ This is it _ . She thought.  _ This is how it ends _ .

 

Even if it wasn’t how she  _ wanted  _ it to end or even how it was  _ supposed _ to end, this was how it was  _ going _ to end.

 

She turned to look at Bellamy.

 

_ I’m sorry _ . She thought so hard, she was afraid she might cause herself an aneurysm. 

 

_ I’m sorry I never told you.  _

 

_ I’m sorry I let you go.  _

 

_ I’m sorry this is how it ends. _

 

_ I’m so sorry.  _

 

She was crying now and she watched Bellamy shake his head, frantically moving to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

_ But at least I got to see you one last time. _

 

She closed her eyes and breathed out.

 

_ I love you, Bellamy. _

 

“CLARKE!”

 

The sound of the gun was deafening in the small room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gunshot*
> 
> I'm dying to see how your theories turned out.
> 
> Anyone right?
> 
> Moving into next week - OUR LAST FULL CHAPTER - Where will our heroes end up?
> 
> Will Clarke survive?
> 
> Will Bellamy?
> 
> WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PAINTING?!?!
> 
> Leave comments below as we all bask in the glow of ANSWERS!...
> 
> And cliffhangers.
> 
> Until next Sunday.... ;)


	19. Something Greater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, y’all! The last chapter before the epilogue. 
> 
> Have tissues handy as this one can hit right in the feels at times.
> 
> In the meantime...
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Something Greater**

 

She couldn’t help her flinch at the sound of the bullet exiting the chamber, the noise startling her, even though she had been expecting it.

 

What she hadn’t  been expecting was the absence of pain.

 

Or the sound of the door opening and another gun firing in quick succession, the sound of a body hitting the floor.

 

“BELLAMY!”

 

Wait. Octavia?

 

She opened her eyes to see the woman in question running toward her from the other side of the room.

 

It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t running in _her_ direction.

 

“Bellamy!” Clarke jolted in her seat, jerking her hands, trying to free herself from her restraints.

 

“Clarke, stop moving!” It was Raven and she was behind her, cutting open her bindings.

 

As soon as she was free, she knelt down on the ground beside Octavia, her hands moving to Bellamy’s face, brushing the hair from his eyes that were clenched in pain.

 

“Bellamy!” She screamed, her voice broken, the tears coming unbidden. “You idiot! What did you _do,_ Bellamy?”

 

Octavia was scanning him head to toe, her hands smoothing over his clothes, searching for what Clarke realized was the bullet’s entry wound.

 

“Clarke.” His voice was equally broken and deep, obviously in pain.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay, shh. You’re going to be fine. You hear me? You’re going to be fine.” The tears were so heavy they were blurring her vision and his hand reached up to wipe them away.

 

She watched his face contort in pain at the motion and she quickly moved his hand back to his side.

 

“Bellamy, I need you to stay still, big brother. The ambulance are on the way but you’ve gotta stay still, okay?”

 

How Octavia was keeping herself together, Clarke wasn’t sure, but she was sobbing now, her hands clinging to his chest, his shirt clenched in her hands.

 

Bellamy nodded minutely and wrapped his hand around Clarke’s, his grip weak.

 

“Hey, hey.” Clarke said softly, swallowing back tears. “Talk to me, Bellamy. Stay awake. What’s your favorite color?”

 

He coughed.

 

“B-Blue.” She watched him smile, the motion quickly warping into a grimace. “Like your eyes.”

 

She half sobbed, half laughed at that.

 

“You ass, you don’t get to say shit like that right now when I can’t kiss you.”

 

His eyes were starting to drift closed and she tapped him on the cheek quickly, urging him to look at her again.

 

“No, no, no, stay awake. That movie, Bellamy. What was that movie called? The professor who looked for art?”

 

“Indiana.” He exhaled shakily. “Indiana Jones.”

 

She nodded as she felt Octavia leave her side.

 

“Yeah, that one. Tell me about him, Bellamy. I want to know everything.”

 

He coughed again and she could see blood on his lip.

 

“Can’t, Princess.” His eyes bore into hers. “You gotta watch it first.”

 

She was full on crying again now, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve.

 

“I will, Bellamy, I promise.” She nodded. “But you’re gonna be there with me, right? To explain all the nerdy shit I don’t understand? Right?”

 

He nodded a small motion and his eyes started to close again.

 

“NO! BELLAMY! Don’t you dare, Bellamy Blake. I swear to God if you do this, if you leave me again, I won’t forgive you this time. I don’t care what the reason is, do you hear me? You better not leave me. Not again.”

 

His breathing had turned shallow but his eyes opened slightly to find hers once more.

 

“Never, Princess.”

 

His eyes closed and they didn’t open again.

 

* * *

  
  


Three days.

 

She hadn’t seen Bellamy in three days.

 

After being with him for weeks and spending every second of every day with him, she felt like she was missing a limb. An integral part of her very being that she had yet to recover.

 

She just wanted to see him. To finally tell him that she loved him.

 

He knew. She knew he did. But she wanted to _say_ it. To make _sure_ that he knew. That there wasn’t any doubt in his mind.

 

The FBI had taken him from the crime scene, carted him away in a special ambulance. Octavia told Clarke she would get to see him again.

 

Foolishly, she had thought Octavia meant that night. Immediately.

 

But then she’d had to stay and tell Octavia and her team what happened, give her statement. How Octavia was able to function when her brother was clinging to life and on his way to the hospital, she wouldn’t ever be able to comprehend.

 

When she had finished, Octavia had taken Clarke aside and told her that she wouldn’t be able to see Bellamy until he had recovered and given his statement too.

 

She protested. _Vehemently._

 

In the end, it hadn’t mattered because of “protocol.”

 

And Clarke found that outsmarting the FBI wasn’t within her capabilities.

 

Without Bellamy, at least.

 

The day after the attack, she had yet another visit from Octavia who’d showed up on her doorstep looking slightly more worse for wear than she had the day before.

 

“Clarke.” She had greeted with a low voice, obviously containing underlying emotion. “My brother has been transferred to a hospital in the states. Back home in Illinois.”

 

She had watched the other girl swallow heavily.

 

“Are you ready to go home?”

 

In that moment, Clarke understood what she was asking and she knew what Octavia thought her dilemma would be.

 

She had two options - Stay in Europe, enjoy her travels without the ever-looming threat of danger or go home and wait for Bellamy to wake up.

 

In the end, it hadn’t been a decision at all.

 

Nothing was going to keep her from Bellamy.

 

So she’d packed her bag and followed Octavia to the airport where they actually flew commercial, to Clarke’s surprise.

 

When she’d asked Octavia about it the other girl shrugged and seemed almost angry when she responded.

 

“The agency is angry with me for following my brother home. They want me to stay here and finish wrapping up the case. Now that _The Concert_ has been found, there’s even more work to do than the usual paperwork.”

 

Vaguely, Clarke recalled McCreary asking Bellamy where the painting was during those few moments. At the time, she had been so terrified, it had only confused her. Especially when he’d pointed a gun in her direction moments later.

 

“Bellamy found it?” She asked, and she couldn’t help the small break in her voice when she spoke his name.

 

Octavia smirked in her seat, reaching down to fasten her seatbelt and get settled in.

 

“Yeah, he did.” She sighed and leaned back. “Stupid fucking asshole, that one, but effective.” She turned to look at Clarke. “But that’s his story to tell.”

 

And that was the end of the conversation.

 

Clarke hated being in the dark and feeling like everyone else knew so much more than she did about her own situation, but she understood. She _did_ kind of want Bellamy to be the one to tell her his story.

 

 _All_ of his story.

 

After they’d landed in Illinois, Octavia invited her to come back to her place, and Clarke accepted.

 

She didn’t want to wait it out alone and she knew that Octavia would be the first one contacted when Bellamy was well enough to be seen.

 

Walking into the other girl’s home, she was immediately assaulted with _Bellamy._

 

It was painfully obvious that this was where Bellamy called home when he wasn’t traveling. From the books scattered on top of every available surface to his scent that lingered in his bedroom.

 

She had scanned the movie collection that lined the shelves around the tv hanging on the wall and smirked when she recognized some of the titles from her conversation with Bellamy.

 

“Yeah.” Octavia said sardonically as she approached Clarke from behind. “Bell has this thing about having hard copies of movies. Something about being afraid the digital versions could disappear at any time.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help but grin at that, tears filling her eyes as her fingertips trailed across one title in particular.

 

“You know.” Clarke said, clearing her throat. “He told me about his dreams. That he wants to be a professor.”

 

Octavia sighed.

 

“Yeah, that was always his plan. But then self-sacrificing Bellamy stepped in.”

 

Clarke turned to look at the other girl.

 

“I hope when this is all over, he considers what he wants again. If he wants to be a professor, that’s what he should do.” Clarke spoke softly, afraid that if she spoke of his recovery too soon, it would jinx him.

 

Octavia smiled at her, her gaze amused.

 

“You know, I used to think Bell would never settle down long enough to work at a university. For as much as he wanted to be a professor, he loved the traveling part of his job.”

 

Clarke stared at her curiously.

 

“You think that’s changed?”

 

Octavia chuckled.

 

“I think that the circumstances have changed.” She eyed Clarke with satisfaction before leaving her standing by the shelves of movies.

 

Over the next two days, Octavia would leave at times during the day.

 

“Still gotta do paperwork, no matter what country I’m in.” She’d supplied in response to Clarke’s question about where she would go.

 

Clarke, in the meantime, hadn’t felt like going back to work just yet, wanting to be at home just in case they called about Bellamy.

 

She had lunch with her mother who insisted on being kept in the loop about Bellamy’s condition.

 

“Please, let me know when he’s awake Clarke. Your father and I would love to come visit him. Maybe give him a medal of honor.”

 

“Mom.” Clarke groaned.

 

“My little girl is home today, safe and sound, because that man jumped in front of a bullet for her. If I want to give him a medal of honor, damnit, I will.”

 

She had avoided all conversation about her feelings for Bellamy with her mother. And with Harper. And with Wells.

 

It was almost as if she was afraid to even talk about it until he was awake and alert, on the road to recovery.

 

She did, however, have lots of conversations about Finn.

 

“NO!” Harper had yelled. “Are you kidding me? That creep was _stalking_ you??”

 

“Yeah, well, not my finest hour, choosing him as my Bellamy stand-in.”

 

Harper snorted.

 

“Listen, we all knew that you were choosing someone who was _nothing_ like Bellamy for a reason. Well at least _I_ knew.”

 

Clarke blushed, looking down at Octavia’s couch and away from Harper’s knowing look.

 

“Yeah, well. Either way, we will chalk that one up to supreme Bellamy Blake depression hours.”

 

At that moment, Octavia returned home, but she had brought members of her team with her.

 

“Clarke, you remember Monty and Jasper, right?”

 

The two had nodded to her in recognition and she in return.

 

“Monty, Harper, Octavia, this my friend, Harper. She works with me at the museum.”

 

“Oh yeah!” Octavia said. “Lincoln has talked about you.” She nodded and went into the kitchen.

 

Jasper followed after her, but Clarke noticed Monty hadn’t moved. When she looked in his direction he was staring at Harper with a slight blush.

 

Amazingly, Harper was in a similar state.

 

After that day, Harper had only been available via telephone and Jasper was lamenting the loss of his right hand man any chance he could.

 

On day three, she had met up for coffee with Wells who she found had been promoted while she was gone.

 

“WHAT?!” She exclaimed. “You got promoted and you didn’t think it was something I would want to know??”

 

Wells shrugged and smiled at the tabletop.

 

“You seemed to be pretty occupied with your criminal dealings and Bellamy.” He pointed a finger at her. “Which, by the way, I don’t appreciate the way you _lied_ to me that day at this very establishment before you guys went galavanting off to Europe.”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“Yeah well. I was still in extreme, angry denial at that point.”

 

She had promised Wells that they would go out for dinner with Bellamy once he was better, and she would introduce him properly, but then she’d quickly changed the subject to Finn. Wells was suspicious but easily distracted.

 

Which brought her to now.

 

Day four.

 

When she’d woken up that morning, she’d found her own hand reaching out to the other side of the bed, trying to grasp someone that wasn’t there.

 

She’d let herself shed a few tears before she shook herself out of it and got up to face the day.

Now, she was sitting at the bar of Octavia’s kitchen counter, chewing slowly on a bowl of Frosted Flakes, glaring at her phone.

 

Jackson had called and left a voicemail wondering when she was coming back to work and Lincoln promised he would take care of it.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Clarke.” He said as he poured Octavia’s milk into her cereal bowl. “I’ll just kindly remind Jackson of what you’ve been through _and_ that he unknowingly hired a criminal for almost a year.”

 

Clarke sat up a little at that.

 

“You know.” She began. “Bellamy seemed to know who he was. That night when we-” She paused, looking down at the countertop.

 

She looked up to find Octavia and Lincoln glancing at one another.

 

“He did.” Octavia answered. “But that’s part of his story, Clarke. He will tell you, I promise.”

 

Clarke sighed and nodded, resigned to not receiving any answers from Octavia. Not unless Bellamy didn’t-

 

She wouldn’t think about that.

 

Later that afternoon, she was lounging on the couch, watching some movie on cable that she’d never seen, when Octavia came bursting in through the front door.

 

“Get dressed, Griffin, we’re going to the hospital.”

 

Clarke was immediately out of her seat and rushing to her bedroom, tugging on the first sweatshirt she could find.

 

They made it to the hospital in record time, Octavia somehow knowing exactly where to go without even stopping at the information desk to ask what room he was in.

 

Bellamy seemed to be housed in a private wing of the hospital Clarke had never been to before and she stared at the walls curiously.

 

“This is the wing where they keep private clients. FBI Agents, celebrities, victims of crime, people they want to keep out of the limelight.”

 

She nodded and followed the other girl down the hallway to the desk there.

 

“Blake.” Was all she said and the nurse pointed at a door at the end of the hallway.

 

When they made it to the door, Octavia immediately went inside, but Clarke found herself pausing in the hallway.

 

What if he didn’t want to see her?

 

What if he was angry with her for being kidnapped? For putting them in that situation in the first place?

 

Thirty seconds later, still frozen in place, Octavia came back out to the hall, glaring playfully at her.

 

“My brother says that if you don’t quote ‘get your ass in there this second, he’s going to risk his stitches coming open and come out here himself.’” Octavia rolled her eyes. “He’s serious too, so you better go in before he’s in here even longer.”

 

At that, Clarke rushed inside, and almost immediately burst into tears.

 

He looked so weak, laying there in his bed. His entire torso was wrapped in bandages, as well as his left leg, and there were several cuts treated across his body and one on his forehead.

 

She was afraid to even approach him.

 

“Come here, Princess.” He said, his voice rough from several days of sleep.

 

She walked hesitantly up to his side and his fingers reached out for hers. She brought her hands up to his and held onto him tightly, afraid that he might slip away at any moment.

 

“You asshole.” She said and his eyebrows knit together. “I can’t _believe_ you jumped in front of me, Bellamy. Don’t you know that if you’d died I wouldn’t have been able to function? Knowing that you died because of _me?_ That you died at all, Bellamy! I can’t live in a world where you’re not there. I just can’t, okay? You don’t get to make dumb decisions like jumping in front of bullets anymore.”

 

When she finished, she noticed he was staring at her with amusement, his fingers curled inside her palm, stroking the skin there slowly.

 

“I’m terribly sorry for saving your life, Princess.” He said sarcastically. “But I will jump in front of a bullet for you anytime I want.”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

His eyes were barely open and Clarke knew that he must still be heavily sedated.

 

“I can’t help but agree with Clarke, big brother. Maybe you should stop putting yourself in these situations. It’s not like you’re a federal agent. You don’t need to constantly be in danger, you know.”

 

He turned his attention to his sister, who Clarke had almost forgotten was even _there_ and sighed.

 

“I think you’re right, O. I’m not as young as I once was. Maybe it’s time I retired.”

 

Clarke’s heart rate picked up at that, anxious for the peace of mind that would come with knowing Bellamy wasn’t constantly in danger.

 

“Okay, you two, Mr. Blake here still needs to rest.” A nurse said as she entered the room, closing the blinds on the window. “One of you can stay, but the other has to go.

 

Clarke squeezed his hand once more, prepared to leave, but Octavia was already moving toward the open door. She looked at the other girl curiously but Octavia merely shrugged.

 

“I’ll be in the room down the hall. You two be good while I’m gone.” She winked and exited out into the hallway.

 

The nurse helped Clarke pull the recliner up to Bellamy’s bedside and she sat, resting her cheek against their clasped hands. Bellamy’s finger gently traced along her cheekbone and she felt a tear fall against his hand.

 

“Hey now, no crying while I can’t hold you, Princess.”

 

She looked up into his eyes once more, noticing that they were much more languid than before.

 

She nodded.

 

“Okay. If I promise to keep it in, will you promise to sleep?”

 

He smiled a small smile.

 

“Now, that sounds like a deal to me.”

  


* * *

  


He slept on and off for the next twenty four hours, the medicine obviously taking its toll and keeping him drowsy so his body could recover.

 

Octavia would come in when she was allowed and would be in the hospitality room down the hall in between visits. After the first twelve hours, Lincoln joined her in the room. He also assured Clarke that Jackson was officially “handled,” as he put it.

 

She found out that Bellamy had been shot in the side and that the bullet had barely grazed his stomach. His surgery hadn’t been as extensive as it could have been, and for that, Clarke was grateful.

 

Still, he would need several weeks of recovery.

 

It was around four in the morning when Bellamy woke up and he seemed more lucid than he had since they brought him to the hospital. The nurse said they were slowly weaning him off his meds, prepping him to return home in a few days.

 

So, even though she was a little tired, she found herself talking to him in the early hours of the morning.

 

“I’m sorry I even got you in this mess, you know.” He said, his voice much stronger than it had been the last time they spoke.

 

She gripped his hand tightly.

 

“No, Bellamy. You don’t get to take credit for that. I insisted on joining you. Besides.” She paused with a smile. “I would do it again, you know.”

 

He looked at her with a sad smile and sighed.

 

“I guess you deserve an explanation.”

 

She looked up at him, her gaze curious.

 

“O mentioned that she hasn’t really told you anything. That it was ‘my story to tell.’” He chuckled, but immediately winced at the pain in his side. “I should’ve told you sooner, but then you were kidnapped and I didn’t have the chance to.” He squeezed her hand. “That’s all I could think about when you were taken. Other than the constant thought of what I would do without you, all I could think about was how it might not have happened had I told you what I found out…”

 

He trailed off and Clarke waited patiently for him to continue.

 

“Octavia and I had been looking for _The Concert_ for a year when Roan emailed the two of us about it about finding it.”

 

Her eyes shot up, her back stiffening.

 

“When I saw you with Finn that day at the coffee shop a year ago, I was distraught. Inconsolable. I told you I left after that, but what I didn’t tell you was where I went.” He paused, squeezing her hand. “Octavia was transferred to white collar after her accident and needed help with her new case - Recovering _The Concert_ . So I decided to help. With my resources it was easy. She and I “created” a new criminal, a thief named _The Rebel King_ . With the help of Murphy, we “stole” a slew of Vermeers, making TRK look like the ultimate buyer for _The Concert_ , hoping that it would make someone approach me about buying the painting.”

 

Wait. _Bellamy_ was The Rebel King? He was the one behind the missing Vermeers? But that didn’t make sense, it didn’t…

 

“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Princess. Just let me finish, okay?”

 

She nodded and looked back toward him.

 

“So when I got the email about the Vermeer, I thought that was for sure why I got it, but then I noticed… It was sent to my _personal_ email. Not the one that we had left a trail with for TRK. That was my first sign that something was off. But I decided to pursue it anyways, not knowing that you would get roped into it along with me.” He playfully glared at her. “When Roan mentioned that TRK killed his mother, warning bells blared in my brain. I talked to him about it later and he said he’d had no idea _I_ was TRK, so when he’d gotten the phone call, he had immediately assumed it was legit. That was when I knew for sure - Someone had been using _my_ moniker to conduct _their_ dirty business. I think, even then, a part of me knew who it was, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

 

“McCreary?” She asked, understanding dawning on her.

 

But Bellamy shook his head.

 

“He’s not McCreary, Clarke. He’s-” He swallowed. “His name was Marcus Kane. McCreary was just an alias. And he was my father.”

 

Her eyes widened almost comically.

 

“Yeah.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “See, my dad died when I was a kid. He… He wasn’t good guy. He was the latest generation of a family of criminals and he was trying to groom me to be his successor. I tried to resist as long as I could, but when he started to threaten to bring Octavia into his influence, I did what I had to do. I reported him. I helped local police and then federal agents set up surveillance on him. I was only twelve at the time, but I knew it needed to be done. And then one night, I came home from a friend’s house and our home was on fire. My mom was standing outside with Octavia, having just gotten back from grocery shopping, and they were crying.” He sighed. “My dad was inside. Or at least that’s what I was told. After that, I found out that he was abusive to my mother, that Octavia wasn’t even his daughter. But it didn’t matter because he was finally _gone_ and we were all better off.”

 

She vaguely recalled a conversation in which Bellamy had told her that his childhood wasn’t a sob story, that they were just poor and that was it.

 

Obviously, he had been lying then.

 

“It never even occurred to me that he had faked his death until last year. After Octavia’s accident she said she dreamed that someone was at the scene who called her ‘little one.’” He rubbed at his eyes. “I convinced her she was dreaming. I convinced _myself_ she was dreaming. Dad was dead. I watched him die. But then when I found out someone was using TRK? My gut told me it was him. My brain didn’t want to believe it, so I didn’t mention it to you.”

 

There was so much he hadn’t told her.

 

_But he’s telling you now._

 

“I should’ve told you about my being TRK and the imposter, at least, but I was so afraid you wouldn’t believe me or you wouldn’t understand, that-” He looked at her meaningfully. “That you would leave me.”

 

 _I wouldn’t have._ She wanted to tell him. _I would’ve understood._

 

_Would you have, though?_

 

She thought about how fragile her trust in Bellamy had been at one point and suddenly, she wasn’t as sure.

 

“When we found out TRK had bought the painting, I knew that whoever it was had figured out mine and Octavia’s plan, which meant they also knew about  Octavia, period. That day when we went to the library, I spent my time looking for traces of my dad, anything in the archives that would allude to his continued existence. Meanwhile, you caught onto mine and Octavia’s scheme.” He smirked. “I was so proud of you for figuring that out on your own, I couldn’t help myself.”

 

She blushed, looking down at the sheets, remembering that afternoon in the stacks of the library.

 

“But I knew you were right, we needed to go to the museum exhibit. At that point, I was almost certain that it was my dad. What were the chances of another criminal out there had something against me to the point that they were trying to frame me for murder _and_ lure me out into the open by taking the painting we had spent so long looking for?”

 

He closed his eyes tightly, bowing his head downwards toward the bed.

 

“I never should’ve let you go off alone that night. It’s my fault you were taken.”

 

She realized then that he had been beating himself up about this for a while.

 

“I knew the danger we were in and I didn’t tell you, so your guard was down. I still can’t believe I hadn’t thought about the reason why Finn would know where you were. That I just took his explanation for granted... but I never thought about my dad knowing about _you._ Least of all that he would be having you _followed._ ”

 

So many pieces were clicking into place now that it was all a little overwhelming, so she took a deep breath.

 

“When you were taken, I knew I needed to find you alone, without Octavia. I didn’t want her around my dad _at all._ I found evidence at the museum that led me to my dad’s alias - Paxton Kane McCreary. In the end, it was his ego that led me to him. He couldn’t have an alias without his name, the family name that he was so _proud_ of.” He chuckled. “That made him mad too. When he found out that I’d changed my name to Blake - My mother’s last name.” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “Anyways, I left Octavia and went to Murphy. He helped me find a bar Kane had bought with his new alias, likely a cover for his many criminal operations. It was there I found Finn. I followed the asshole right to the building they were keeping you in, knocked him out, and stuck a tracker in his pocket. The tracker was meant to let Murphy know where I was, but apparently Octavia is a top notch federal agent because she had already found Murphy and was on hand when the tracker went off. That’s what I’m told, at least.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help but smile at Bellamy’s obvious affection for his sister. He should have known she would figure out what he was up to.

 

“Octavia’s team came to the warehouse with Murphy. Murphy slipped off with the painting while the rest of them scoured the building, looking for the two of us. Kane was radioed by another one of his flunkies who told him the painting had been taken - Don’t worry O took said flunkie into custody too - Kane didn’t like that too much. That’s when he decided he would use _you_ against me and brought me to where he was holding you. At that point, I didn’t even _know_ Octavia was there, but I’m glad she was, in the end. You know how it played out after that.”

 

She nodded. As soon as Bellamy was shot, Octavia’s team had burst through the door, Octavia firing the bullet that put an end to Marcus Kane.

 

And Bellamy was carted away to be operated on.

 

“I know that’s a lot to take in. And I completely understand if you never want to speak to me again.”

 

Clarke’s eyes shot to his, her glare pronounced.

 

“Bellamy Blake. You jumped in front a fucking _bullet_ to save me from your abusive, criminal father and you think I’m going to hold it against you that you left me out of the loop?”

 

Bellamy chuckled and leaned back against his bed, his eyes still on hers.

 

“You could.” He murmured.

 

“I won’t.” She said simply, willing him to believe her.

 

She closed her eyes, summoning up her courage, before finding his eyes once more.

 

“Bellamy…” She started. “I-” She swallowed. “I want you to know that if you had died that night, I would’ve been haunted forever by my own lack of transparency.”

 

He cocked his head to the side, staring at her curiously.

 

“I love you, Bellamy. And it occurred to me that I never had a chance to tell you.”

 

Bellamy sat up once more, squeezing her hand in his and pulling her in closer to him. He slid over so she could join him on his tiny hospital bed, his grip much stronger than the day before as he brought her in close.

 

“I love you too, Clarke.”

 

After what felt like an eternity, she was pressed against him, his lips covering hers. He kissed her sweetly, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw before he pulled away.

 

“And when I get out of this damned hospital, I plan to show you how much.”

 

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his, his lips quirking up in response.

 

“No more secrets?” She whispered.

 

He nodded.

 

“No more secrets.”

 

He leaned in to kiss her once more, his hand gripping her hair and pulling her closer.

  


* * *

  


Being back at the museum felt both comforting and agitating.

 

She hated being away from Bellamy during his recovery, but he had insisted that she return to her work, touting that he would recover more quickly if she wasn’t there to witness his embarrassing struggles.

 

While she had assured him that she didn’t think any less of him, he wasn’t moved at all, and told her that she could come visit him after work.

 

So everyday for a week, she went to work and then immediately left to join him at the hospital. He was obviously much better after day three and by the end of the week, he was ready to go home, walking to the car himself.

 

“The nurse really wanted you to be wheeled out here, you know.”

 

He sighed and leaned into his crutches as he waited for her to open the car door.

 

“If I don’t get up and moving as much as possible, I’m never going to fully recover, now am I?”

 

She rolled her eyes and helped him in the car.

 

“You’re just a stubborn ass who refuses to listen to reason.”

 

She started to pull away to shut the door but he grabbed her arm and pulled her into him, dropping her unceremoniously onto his lap in the passenger seat.

 

He smiled at her.

 

“But you love me anyways.”

 

She wanted to roll her eyes again, but she pursed her lips to keep herself from grinning at his satisfaction.

 

“Yeah, I do.” She leaned in and kissed him on the lips once. “But you’re still a stubborn ass.”

 

He chuckled as she exited the car and walked around to the driver’s side.

 

The drive home was pleasant. Clarke filled him in on the goings on at the museum.

 

Lincoln was still there, his cover miraculously not blown after the whole fiasco, and Octavia wanted to keep him there. Clarke didn’t mention that she thought Octavia  wanted him to stay there so he would be closeby.

 

Harper had been seeing Monty pretty steadily since the day they met at Octavia’s place. Bellamy had been deeply amused by that, saying that he could see it. Clarke had to admit, she hadn’t seen it coming _at all_ , but then again, she didn’t know Monty as well as Bellamy did.

 

By the time they reached Octavia and Bellamy’s home, they had covered the ins and outs of everything Bellamy had missed out on, including Clarke’s mother’s desire to shower him with all the awards that could be bestowed upon him by the power of her position as governor.

 

“So what you’re saying is that your mother approves, then?” He smirked as she helped him up the steps of the front stoop. “That’s one obstacle I’ve overcome, then.”

 

She opened the door and let him inside, rolling her eyes at his pleased expression.

 

“Yeah, well. You still have to convince my dad.”

 

His head jerked around to look at her in mild horror.

 

“Kidding, of course. He’s ready to throw an annual fundraiser in your honor too. Although, he was the one that approved Finn for the press pool at the governor’s mansion, so he’s dealing with double the amount of guilt.”

 

Bellamy leaned his crutches against the back of the couch before walking around to plop down in the cushions.

 

“He shouldn’t feel guilty. I didn’t peg Finn even after I knew my dad was potentially back in town. I just thought he was your dumbass, creepy stalker of an ex.” Bellamy said, shrugging.

 

Clarke sat down next to him on his right side so that she could snuggle against him and not bother his wound.

 

“Yeah, well. The love of a father and all that. I’ve tried telling him otherwise, but I imagine that’s something he will have to accept on his own.”

 

Bellamy nodded against her, leaning down to place a kiss against the top of her head.

 

“Indeed.” He sighed, pulling her in closer. “So what now, Princess? We’ve worked through all of the obstacles my father put into place for us, spilled our guts, confessed our love for one another - All those epic things. What’s left for us to conquer?”

 

She smiled, reaching over to pull his phone from his pocket and began tapping buttons until she turned the screen in his direction.

 

“Well. We do have a rather long list of pop culture staples that you once promised me we would tackle _together._ ”

 

He grinned down at her.

 

“So does that mean, now that all of this is over, you _do_ still want to ‘see my face?’”

 

She smiled.

 

“Well, you _did_ guarantee me that I would want to.”

 

He leaned down, rubbing his nose against hers.

 

“And do you, Princess?”

 

She sighed and leaned up, kissing him soundly, pulling away before it could get too heated.

 

“I do.” She whispered, a promise against his lips. “And-”

 

She pulled away, leaning over to pick up a VHS cover from the coffee table where it sat at the top of a tall stack.

 

“I know which movie I want to start with!”

 

The cover was old and tattered, the edges well worn from obvious reuse, the cover image a man with a whip and a rather adventurous looking hat.

 

He grinned.

 

“Are you trying to tell me something, Princess?”

 

She shrugged, leaning back and pressing play on the player where she had obviously already loaded the movie.

 

“I just happen to be fond of adventurous, intellectual types. Whether or not you take this as a symbol of my support should you ever decide to throw your metaphorical hat in the ‘professor’ ring, is up to you.”

 

She turned to watch the screen where the movie was loading and felt him lean down to whisper in her ear.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

She looked up at him, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

 

“I think life has something greater in store for someone like you, Bellamy Blake.”

 

“Greater than traveling the world, recovering lost art?” He asked with a raised brow.

 

“Yeah, greater than that.” She smiled softly.

 

“What did you have in mind, Princess?”

 

She grinned, kissing him on the cheek.

 

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daaaaaaaawwwwwwwww
> 
> These two. 
> 
> Anyone catch the slight VMars reference?
> 
> Epilogue is coming at you next Sunday!
> 
> As for today... there may or may not be something special posting today for ppl who are just fans of my writing, in general, who have also enjoyed my other stories. 
> 
> Please leave a comment and tell me all your thoughts! I want to know what you loved about the story (if there is anything) and any guesses for where our epilogue will take us!
> 
> So until next Sunday and our epilogue, I bid you Farewell.


	20. Epilogue - The Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. 
> 
> I'm legit crying as I write this author's note.
> 
> This fic has meant so much to me.
> 
> It started out as a quest to write something different for the Bellarke fandom, and in that quest, I've met so many new ppl with such kind words.
> 
> I hope this story has given you something to look forward to each week and that the ending gives you everything you're hoping for (And maybe even wanting more)!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Epilogue - The Invitation**

 

**1 Year Later**

 

“Wait!” Clarke yelled, rushing quickly to where the movers were placing the easel for the welcome sign. She approached them with a kind smile, a little breathless from her job.”I actually want to put it over there.” She pointed to the entrance to the exhibit hall, across the room from where they were placing it at the entrance to the museum.

 

The two men smiled and nodded, picking up the heavy easel and placing it where she instructed.

 

“You know, there’s only an hour left until the exhibit opens. Perhaps you should, I don’t know, go change clothes?”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and turned to face Harper who was leaning against the front welcome desk, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place.

 

“Shouldn’t you be doing the same, pot?” Clarke snarked, walking over behind the desk and grabbing her keys from the locked drawer.

 

Harper chuckled.

 

“Monty’s almost here, which is why I’m waiting in the lobby. Now, you didn’t answer my question. Why aren’t you off getting ready? It’s almost time. Or are you planning to wear _that_ to the biggest opening exhibit of your career?”

 

She eyed Clarke’s outfit with disdain, her brows raising in disapproval.

 

“You know, you could at least attempt to hide your judgment for my work attire.”

 

“Your work attire is fine, Griffin, I just thought I would walk in to see you in some hot little number that will have Bellamy glued to your side all night, glaring at any male who dares approach you.”

 

Clarke bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hide her smile, but failing miserably.

 

“My attire has nothing to do with Bellamy’s party behavior.”

 

Harper snorted.

 

“You’re right. He’s like that _all the time._ ”

 

Clarke sighed and walked around the desk to where Harper was leaning.

 

“Yeah, well. You’re right. I do plan to wear a hot little number, but it has less to do with what Bellamy does _during_ the party and more to do with what it will make him want to do _afterwards._ ”

 

Harper laughed, pushing off of the desk and moving toward the door, Clarke at her side.

 

“Again, he’s like that _all the time._ ”

 

Clarke shrugged, not apologetic, and reached to open the door for the two of them before closing it once again.

 

“I won’t apologize for my fantastic sex life.”

 

Harper’s giggles made her smile grow as she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

 

“Don’t apologize. Mine’s pretty amazing as well.”

 

Clarke laughed, pulling her phone out to see the man-in-question’s name pop up on the screen.

 

 **Bellamy Blake** _Good luck tonight, Princess! It’s going to be amazing. Can’t wait to see you._

 

She couldn’t help the soft smile that formed as she read his message.

 

“Ah, there he is. I was wondering when he’d send his well wishes for the opening. You’re not going to see him until an hour in, right?”

 

“Yepp. He’s covering a class for his advisor tonight and actually pretty excited about it. He loves his PhD program and getting to teach entry level courses, but this is his first opportunity to teach an upper level one.” She grinned. “He’s a complete dork, but he’s my dork and I love him dearly.”

 

Harper started making gagging noises.

 

“Stop. You’re making me sick to my stomach with all the nausea-inducing mush.”

 

Clarke elbowed her in the rib.

 

“Whatever, you’re the engaged one, if you recall.”

 

She turned just in time to see Harper’s face erupt into a huge smile.

 

“True.”

 

At that moment, a car pulled up in front of them with Monty at the helm and Harper leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

 

“So I’ll see you in an hour, kay? Don’t worry, we’ll try and give you adequate company until your lover boy shows up.”

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

Harper reached forward, opening the car door, and seating herself inside.

 

Clarke watched as she leaned across the car’s console to kiss Monty quickly before the two of them drove off down the street.

 

She sighed as she reached her Prius, leaning against the door to unlock it. Sitting in the driver’s seat she finally texted Bellamy back.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _Can’t wait to see you either, babe. Try not to keep me waiting too long ;)_

 

She grinned, starting her car with a push of a button.

 

Her phone buzzed before she could even pull out.

 

 **Bellamy Blake** _Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of it. ;)_

 

 _Yeah._ _It’s going to be a very good night._

  


 

* * *

 

  


An hour later, she was back at the museum, greeting guests as they entered, and already she was tired of smiling.

 

Harper was a great back up, of course, but she was longing to see Bellamy walk through the doors instead of all of these people she didn’t know.

 

“Clarke!” She heard her mother before she saw her.

 

Looking toward the entrance, she could see her waving behind two people who were in front of her and she laughed lightly, waving in return.

 

When the crowd finally cleared, her mother and father were both grinning, rushing in her direction with open arms.

 

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so _proud_ of you!” Her mother said, engulfing her in a sweeping hug that almost lifted her off the ground.

 

“ _We’re_ proud of you, sweetheart.” She could hear the emphasis in his tone and knew he was amused by her mother’s exclusion of him instead of annoyed.

 

Her mother pulled away, holding her at arm’s length and wiping tears from her eyes.

 

“Yes, yes, _we’re_ proud of you!”

 

She smiled sheepishly at her parents.

 

“Come on, you guys have been to my exhibits before. This isn’t your first rodeo.”

 

“Oh, but sweetie, this one is _special!_ You _know_ it is!” She pushed her hair back from her face and looked around. “Where’s Bellamy? Isn’t he here yet?”

 

She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

 

“Not yet.” At the disappointed look on her mother’s face, she hurriedly continued. “But he’s coming, don’t worry, he wouldn’t miss it. He had to cover for his advisor’s evening class at the last minute.”

 

Her mother’s confused expression changed to one of understanding and then excitement.

 

“Oh that’s terrific news! I’m sure he wanted to be here, but I know he was probably excited for the opportunity.”

 

“Yeah, honey, that’s really great for him.’ Her father chimed in.

 

“It is.” She agreed, nodding. “Besides, it’s not like he’s missing the whole exhibit, just the beginning.”

 

“Will he be here in time for your speech?” Her mother asked.

 

She sighed and shook her head.

 

“Unfortunately, no, but it will be okay.” She smiled slightly, trying to hide her disappointment at his absence.

 

Her mother obviously wasn’t fooled.

 

“Don’t worry, honey.” She reached down and took her hand. “You’re going to do an amazing job, I have no doubt.”

 

“Thanks, mom.” She gave her mom a genuine smile before the two of them had to move on to make way for the rest of the people streaming in through the front door.

 

Wells came in next, smile bright, and introduced her to his date. He had met her a few weeks before at some sort of workshop. She was a lawyer, like him, and she was _hot_ , Clarke had to admit.

 

And she seemed to make Wells happy, so there was that too.

 

Still, her eyes drifted to the stream of people coming in, hoping against all hopes to see Bellamy arriving early.

 

When the time for the opening speech came and he was still nowhere to be seen, she gave up on the wait and proceeded to her post.

 

She had no reason to be upset, really.

 

She knew why he wasn’t there.

 

But this night was special. For both of them. She was kind of hoping that the fates that seemed to love interfering in their lives thus far would step in once more and make a miracle happen.

 

She sighed deeply as she turned toward where a small stage was set up at the end of the hall. The podium was in the center, three seats were set up to the right, and the covered easel to the left.

 

People were congregated in groups, talking amongst themselves. She could see her parents near the front of the room, next to the stage, no doubt waiting for her to make her speech. Wells wasn’t too far away from the stage either and Harper and Monty had found him and his date. The four of them were chatting happily.

 

She readied herself, preparing to take the stage when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

 

“I've been given very explicit instructions to take video of the entire ceremony.”

 

She grinned and turned around to face Octavia, who was wearing a beautiful red cocktail dress, digital camera in hand

 

“A digital camera? Doesn’t your phone take video?” She asked her with a raised eyebrow.

 

Octavia rolled her eyes and held it up for Clarke to see.

 

“Big bro is worried that my phone will run out of storage before your speech, so he’s taking extra precautions.”

 

“He bought a physical camera _just_ for this night?”

 

“ _And_ a memory card.” Octavia flipped open the little door on the side, exposing the memory card underneath.

 

Clarke sighed and shook her head.

 

“He’s something, that man.”

 

“Yeah, head over fucking heels, that’s what.” Octavia snorted. “But he’s really suffering, not being able to be here. He wanted to call in sick to work but I convinced him you would be pissed.”

 

Clarke nodded.

 

“You’re right, I would’ve been.”

 

Octavia’s eyes drifted to her body then, taking in her little black dress that she had purchased for this occasion. She snorted again.

 

“He’s going to die when he sees you, you know.”

 

Clarke laughed.

 

“I think that’s the idea.”

 

Octavia smirked.

 

“Yeah, well, just prepare yourself.”

 

Clarke cocked her head in confusion.

 

“For what?”

 

Octavia’s eyes shifted a little glancing to the camera and back to her before answering.

 

“For his reaction, I mean. He may not even let you stay for the entire party.”

 

It was Clarke’s turn to snort.

 

“Because I’m definitely one to take orders well.”

 

Octavia laughed, slapping Clarke on the shoulder.

 

“Give em hell, kid.”

 

“You know she’s older than you, right?”

 

Lincoln came up behind Octavia’s shoulder, a small smile on his face.

 

Octavia face brightened, turning around to place her arms around his neck.

 

“Only a year.” She leaned up, kissing him on the lips once. “When does the party start?”

 

“Any minute.” He responded. “In fact,” His eyes moved to Clarke’s. “Clarke and I should take our places.”

 

Octavia sighed.

 

“Fine.” She turned to Clarke. “Don’t take too long on the speech, Griff, I need to see my man.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes.

 

“You see him _everyday.”_

 

Octavia grinned.

 

“Yeah, for now. Who knows when I’ll be called away again.”

 

Clarke smiled a small smile at the two of them.

 

“Understood. I’ll keep it brief.”

 

“Good.” Octavia leaned over to hug Clarke before pulling away. “By the way, I found someone to pick up your lease for you until it runs out.”

 

Clarke perked up at that.

 

“Really? Thank goodness! I thought I would be paying that rent forever.”

 

“Yeah well, maybe you shouldn’t have signed a three year lease.”

 

Clarke crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“I didn’t realize I would be moving out a year into the lease, as you well know.”

 

“I don’t know why the two of you didn’t just move into your apartment instead of deciding to rent a house, of all things.”

 

Clarke sighed, knowing she would have to have his same conversation with most people. The only person who seemed to understand her and Bellamy’s desire to rent a house in the suburbs was her dad.

 

“Well, maybe after years of being apart thanks to his meddling, psychotic father, we were ready for a little permanence.”

 

Octavia opened her mouth to retort but Lincoln elbowed her in the ribs and she cringed.

 

“Okay, okay, got it. Consider me properly admonished for my thoughtlessness.”

 

Clarke smiled then.

 

“I guess I’ll let it slide. Since you did buy us a pretty sweet coffee table for the move.”

 

Octavia grinned.

 

“It is a pretty awesome coffee table.”

 

Lincoln leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

 

“Glad we can all agree on the awesome coffee table. Now, Clarke and I have somewhere to be.” He guided Clarke away slightly.

 

“Break multiple legs, you two! Smile big for the real-life camera!”

 

She held up the digital camera once more and Clarke giggled as she and Lincoln turned to walk toward the stage.

 

She felt herself shiver with nerves, looking at the covered easel and sighing to herself.

 

“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to blow them away. And you and Bellamy can rewatch it later tonight. He’s not going to miss it.”

 

She smiled in his direction.

 

“Theoretically, I know that. But I still miss him. We should’ve done this together.” Her smile widened. “But I’m also _so_ proud of him. He’s been working so hard in his PhD program, he’s _earned_ tonight’s opportunity. I can’t wait to grill him about it later. Who cares about a little speech.”

 

Lincoln chuckled and patted her on the back.

 

“ _He_ cares. Trust me.” They reached the stage. “It sounds like you guys have a lot to do tonight, then.”

 

She smirked.

 

“You have no idea.”

 

Lincoln groaned, shaking his head in distaste before gesturing for her to precede him to the stage.

  


-

  


The ceremony had gone off without a hitch and was going well so far. People were listening to Jackson speak in rapt interest, waiting for the main event.

 

“And none of this would have been possible without one of our curators, Ms. Clarke Griffin!”

 

Loud applause rang out across the hall and she could hear her friends whooping for her in the crowd.

 

“And before we unveil this beautiful artwork, Ms. Griffin is going to regale us all with the amazing story behind it.”

 

More applause greeted her as she walked up to the podium, Jackson nodding at her encouragingly with a bright smile.

 

She smiled in return before turning to face the crowd of people. It was dark looking out at everyone, due to the bright lights highlighting the stage.

 

It helped though.

 

If she didn’t think about it, she could almost imagine that Bellamy was out there, watching her with his dorky smile, fucking digital camera in hand.

 

“Just over a year ago, I received a very suspect email.” She spoke into the microphone.

 

Laughter rumbled throughout the audience and she smiled, knowing that they were actually listening to what she had to say.

 

“It was an invitation. I had been offered the opportunity to pursue something truly _great._ The adventure of a lifetime.”

 

She paused, remembering how she had felt that night, alone in bed, reading an email she thought was spam.

 

She had seen Bellamy for the first time in a _year_ that day, and she had been shaken to the core. Never would she have pursued the contents of that email, had he not been there to encourage her, even if he hadn’t meant to.

 

“Someone had caught wind of _The Concert_. One of the most famous missing pieces of all time had finally resurfaced from the underground world of illegal markets.” She paused, feeling the weight of their attention. “I know what you’re wondering - Why didn’t I just call the police? Well… I did.”

 

The laughs came once more.

 

“Of course, they thought I was crazy, but something inside of me wouldn’t let it go. I couldn’t allow this beautiful piece to disappear again if the email was legit. So I did something very stupid... I followed it.”

 

Everyone was paying close attention now, hanging on her every word.

 

“But I didn’t have to follow it alone.”

 

At that moment, she watched the crowd directly in front of the stage part as her mother turned to reach out to someone.

 

Her heart stopped when she saw a familiar head of dark curls step into view.

 

He was looking up at her like she hung the moon up in the night sky, a broad grin taking over his face.

 

She blinked back tears she hadn’t realized had come, her heart rate racing.

 

Suddenly, she felt a peace she hadn’t before. She _wanted_ to tell her story.

 

 _Their_ story.

 

“And together, he and I set off on a remarkable journey, with absolutely _no idea_ where it would lead us.”

 

She nodded down at him and he brought his thumb up to his chest in a “ _Me?”_ gesture.

 

Jackson moved to the edge of the stage sweeping his arm down, welcoming Bellamy to the stage to the applause of the crowd.

 

She grinned at his surprised face as he approached her. He slowly smiled in return, reaching out to wrap his arm around her, pulling her in to kiss her cheek.

 

“This was totally unplanned.” She said into the microphone. “But none of this would have been possible without Bellamy Blake. And he deserved to be recognized as well.”

 

She could see flashes from the back of the room as the press went crazy, finally capturing the pictures they had been trying to get for over a year.

 

The governor’s obvious adoration for Bellamy had garnered plenty of press, everyone wondering where it was coming from.

 

Slowly, people had started to guess his connection with Clarke, but they kept their relationship private. They had gone through _so_ much over the years, they wanted at _least_ a year to themselves.

 

“Bellamy and I went through a lot in our quest for _The Concert._ But in the end, it was more than worth it.”

 

She turned to smile at him and he sent an equally brilliant look her way in return.

 

Walking toward the covered easel, she slowly reached out and pulled the cloth away, revealing the painting underneath.

 

There, in all it’s perfectly restored glory, was _The Concert._

 

Gasps rang throughout the audience and suddenly the applause returned, full force, cheers rising from the people in attendance.

 

When the painting had been returned to its home museum, the people there had immediately gotten in touch with Clarke. Once they learned what she and Bellamy had gone through to ensure the painting was returned to them, they knew that they had to return the favor by allowing the world-return premiere be held at The Ark.

 

Security was tighter tonight than she’d ever seen it, but she couldn’t be bothered by the added stress when she saw the painting here, under the spotlight.

 

It was representative of so much for her and it had never looked so beautiful.

 

Suddenly the crowd gasped once more and Clarke was instantly alert, looking around the room for signs of danger but when she looked at her mother, she noticed that she was looking behind her instead.

 

Confused, she turned around to ask Bellamy what she’d missed.

 

But when she turned around, Bellamy wasn’t standing behind her.

 

He was kneeling.

 

Her own gasp of surprise came entirely by surprise, her hand flying to her chest.

 

What was he _doing?_

 

He was smiling like a doofus, of course. Staring at her with every ounce of love he had and she knew she undoubtedly looked the same.

 

“Princess,” he started, his voice low and she could hear the shaking in it. “Don’t kill me.”

 

“Bellamy Blake. I swear to God, I-“

 

“No. Let me say this. Please.”

 

She swallowed, the tears flowing freely now as she looked down at the earnestness on his face, and nodded.

 

“Tonight means so much to me. To you. We’ve faced so much _together_ and I wouldn’t take _any_ of it back. We had no idea that one stupid email would lead us, but here we are. And standing up here with you, there’s nowhere else I want to be.” He paused, reaching inside of his jacket and pulling out a small black box. “I don’t want to wait anymore, Princess.”

 

He flipped open the box and the sight of the diamond inside made her start crying harder.

 

“Because you were right. There is something greater in store for me. And I _know_ that whatever it is, it’s with _you._ ”

 

He took the ring out and held it up in his hand.

 

“So please, _please_ , take pity on me and stay with me for the rest of our lives, however long that is.”

 

She started laughing.

 

“Which, knowing the two of us and our penchant for danger, could be any day now, so say ‘yes’ quickly, please.”

 

Flinging her arms out she grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him to his feet, kissing him instead.

 

He grinned against her mouth, but returned the kiss, bringing his arms up to wrap around her waist and her neck, pulling her in close.

 

She pulled away after a minute and grinned back.

 

“Yeah, I will. But you also could’ve done this somewhere a little less…”

 

She trailed off and swept her arm across the crowd of people who were cheering. Her mother was jumping up and down in the front row, and looking over Bellamy’s shoulder, she could see Lincoln grinning with his camera phone held up and Jackson with a mischievous look on his face.

 

“Wait.” She said, pushing him back a little with her palm on his chest. “You planned this, didn’t you, you asshole?”

 

Bellamy’s smile was so big he couldn’t even deny it if he wanted.

 

“Oh my gosh. You really let me think you weren’t going to be here at all so you could orchestrate a surprise, public engagement opportunity with my boss???”

 

He stroked her cheek sweetly.

 

“Technically, I collaborated with Lincoln, but we had to have Jackson’s approval, of course.”

 

She shook her head back and forth.

 

“I will get payback. You realize this, right?”

 

He smiled and pulled her in for another quick kiss.

 

“I wouldn’t expect any less, Princess.”

  


 

* * *

  
  
  


**Two Years After That**

  


“So then Zeus got pissed, basically, as he was want to do.”

 

The class chuckled and he couldn’t help but smile too.

 

His phone started to ding an alarm from where it sat on the desk he was leaning against.

 

“Alright, alright, you’re free for the weekend. Make sure you finish reading chapter twelve before you come back on Monday. Not saying there will be a quiz, but if there is one, you’ll be well prepared.”

 

Everyone laughed again as they started packing up their bags.

 

His phone buzzed again and he turned around to see a message from his mother in law.

 

 **Abby** _Bellamy, sweetie. Please remind my daughter that she promised that she would attend my fundraiser on Saturday and that it’s not optional once committed to. Jake and I can’t wait to see you both!_

 

He laughed lightly, responding with an affirmative. Abby has just seen them the week before but she still acted as if it had been ages.

 

“I swear to God this campus never has fucking parking.”

 

He looked up to see the daughter in question enter through the classroom door and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the unexpected surprise.

 

“Well hello there, my Princess.”

 

Taking her in his arms, he brought her in close, devouring her mouth with fervor.

 

She pulled away too soon and he chased her with his mouth.

 

“Bellamy!” She giggled hitting him on the shoulder.

 

He grinned.

 

“Your mom just texted.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes.

 

“Ugh. Don’t tell me it’s about the fucking fundraiser. I told her we would go. I didn’t commit to a post dinner drink with the governor of North Carolina.”

 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

 

“Won’t Wells and his fiance be there too?”

 

She sighed.

 

“Well yeah, but I can actually get out of it, so why would I go? You don’t _want_ to go do you?”

 

He shrugged.

 

“She’s your mom. She loves me. I want to keep it that way.”

 

Clarke glared at him for siding with her mom.

 

“Anyway.” She drawled, reaching into her purse. “I came for a reason.”

 

She pulled a shopping bag out from her purse and held it up with a smile.

 

“I got you a present. You know, to celebrate the end of your first month as a fully-fledged Professor of History.”

 

He smiled down at her.

 

“Oh? And what’d you get?”

 

She reached inside the shopping bag and pulled out something brown. Upon closer look, he burst out laughing.

 

It was an exact replica of the Indiana Jones hat.

 

She smiled and reached up, putting it on top of his head and stepped back to admire the view.

 

“I like it. Very roguishly handsome in an adventurer kind of way.”

 

“Well you did fall in love with me on an adventure.”

 

She hummed, leaning in to take the hat off his head and kiss him once.

 

“That I did.”

 

He stepped back slightly, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

 

“Not sure I need it anymore, though. We haven’t left Illinois in a while.” He shrugged, his eyes glancing down at the hat.

 

She smirked.

 

“Oh I’ve got plenty of ideas on how we could use it.”

 

He found his smile becoming more teasing in nature, his fingers gripping her hips tightly.

 

“Do you now?”

 

She eyed the tall desk standing beside them.

 

“You know, I have _dreams_ about this desk.” She said, her voice suddenly low and husky.

 

“Is that so?” He pulled her in closer, running his nose along the side of her neck with a smile.

 

“Ugh. I’d really appreciate it if the two of you could keep that to your quaint little house in the suburbs that you call home.”

 

Bellamy sighed and stepped back, turning to face the hulking figure in the doorway.

 

“Do I want to know why you’re apparently still stalking us?”

 

Roan grinned, stepping further into the room, closer to where they were standing.

 

“You _could_ ask, but no, you probably don’t want to know.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help her giggle, causing Roan to turn and face her with a charming smile.

 

“Good to see you again, Mrs. Blake.”

 

“Roan.” She nodded in his direction.

 

They hadn’t seen him since the wedding, but he lived in Europe so it wasn’t that odd.

 

What _was_ really odd was that he was standing here in Bellamy’s classroom, completely unannounced.

 

“How can we help you?” Bellamy asked, cutting straight to the chase.

 

Roan pondered for a moment before responding.

 

“The last time I needed your help, I did some manipulating. This time I thought I would just ask.” He grinned. “The two of you make such a good team after all.”

 

“We’re retired, Roan.” Bellamy said tiredly.

 

Roan brought his hands up.

 

“Just a weekend. I promise. Come see the Irish countryside and be home before class on Monday.”

 

He started to say _no_ but Clarke pulled on his sleeve, so he turned to look at her curiously.

 

She bit down on her bottom lip and looked up at him through her lashes.

 

“I _have_ missed the Irish countryside.”

 

Roan chuckled, picking up on Clarke’s desire to leave the country and capitalizing on it.

 

“Come on, Rebel King. One last time. For old time’s sake.” He teased Bellamy.

 

Bellamy wanted to say _no_ on instinct, but standing there looking at Clarke... He realized that maybe… maybe he could say _yes._

 

_Just one more time._

 

“Well, Princess.” He grabbed the hat in her hand and put it on his head. “I guess I’ll be needing this hat after all.”

 

He pulled her in close, his hand resting on her lower back.

 

“One last adventure?”

 

She grinned and pulled his hat down over his forehead.

 

“For old time’s sake.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it.
> 
> The end of Indiana Jones Bellarke.
> 
> I may one day post an outtake or two, as there were several moments I wanted to write in Bellamy's POV that I didn't get to (Including that train scene where she was obviously talking in her sleep).
> 
> Maybe to celebrate 1,000 kudos, should that day come?
> 
> My next fic will post in a few weeks! 
> 
> So many people have expressed that this fic has led them to reading my other fics as well, and for that, I am very grateful.
> 
> I hope that I will see all of you when the next fic prologue is dropped!
> 
> (Cause y'all know I'm extra and I always have to kill you softly with a dramatic and teasing prologue).
> 
> Until then...
> 
>  
> 
> -Mally


	21. Future Outtake - One Last Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUNDAY FUNDAY!
> 
> I'm BAAAAAACCCKKK!
> 
> So, I took a summer break.
> 
> After writing every week for almost a year, I needed some rebooting time, apparently.
> 
> But I'm happy to say that I'm back with that promised "A Greater Pursuit" outtake!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this little glimpse into the life of our favorite Indiana Jones team-up as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Future Outtake - One Last Adventure**

 

“I swear to GOD, Bellamy Blake, if we don’t make it back in time for my exhibit because you underestimated the amount of time it would take you to get this fucking painting, I will KILL you.” Clarke said, breathless, as they ran around another street corner, ducking into an alley and leaning against the stone wall behind them.

 

Bellamy chuckled, his fingers brushing against hers as he peeked around to the street, looking in the direction their pursuers had been coming from.

 

“You know I love it when you use my full name, Princess.” he grinned down at her. “Besides, how was I supposed to know that these asshats had a higher grade security system than I expected? Roan said they only bought it two weeks ago.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes before narrowing them and huffing in exasperation.

 

“Or maybe you’ve just lost your touch.” she snarked.

 

Bellamy’s gaze darkened then as he stepped closer into her space, his chest brushing against hers as his arms came up to cage her against the building’s exterior.

 

“I think my touch is just fine.” he said, his voice deep and agitated.

 

The sound of a throat clearing in both of their ears reminded the two of them that they weren’t exactly alone.

 

“Can you - I don’t know - Not?” Octavia’s frustrated voice cut through the tension surrounding them and Bellamy smirked, pushing off the wall and walking back to the corner.

 

“Sorry, sis. Can’t have my manhood challenged like that.” He looked back and forth down the street before motioning for Clarke to follow him with a tilt of his head.

 

“It’s pretty bad when your own wife calls you out on your shortcomings, Blake.” Roan spoke then, his tone amused and a light chuckle drifting through their earpieces.

 

Clarke smirked at her husband’s back, following him down the street.

 

“You know, last I checked, no one asked for your opinion, Azgeda.” Bellamy growled, his hand coming up behind Clarke’s back and guiding her in step beside him.

 

She couldn’t help but bite down on her lip as she looked up at his face, his chiseled jawline currently covered in a light stubble, the hat he wore shading his face from the bright sun in the Irish sky.

 

“I can’t believe you actually wore the hat.” she chuckled.

 

He looked down at her again, his teeth showing in a wide grin.

 

“Of course I did. You bought it for me. Besides.” he said, reaching up with the hand not on her lower back to adjust the brim dramatically. “I look like a dashing professor with a secret treasure-hunting lifestyle.”

 

“Because there’s definitely a specific  _ look _ for that narrative.” she mused, reaching up to flick at the brim.

 

At that moment, the sounds of gunshots caused the two of them to duck and immediately run for cover behind a car on the street, Bellamy’s hat flying off of him and landing on the street.

 

“Your hat!” Clarke squealed, reaching out for it, but Bellamy pulled her into his side until they were behind the car.

 

“It can wait, Clarke, Jesus.” Bellamy huffed. He swore, drawing his own pistol from his waistband.

 

Clarke sighed, leaning back against the vehicle.

 

“For old times’ sake, huh? Remind me again why the old times are so appealing?”

 

“Well.” he started, taking aim with the barrel. “You fell in love with me on one of these adventures.”

 

She smiled a small smile as she looked up at him.

 

“I would’ve fallen in love with you in a Starbucks, Bellamy, you didn’t need adventure and intrigue to woo me.”

 

He smiled, eyes flickering to her lips before finding his target once more.

 

“Well, better safe than sorry, I guess.”

 

Clarke jumped as he fired and she could hear the sound of metal hitting pavement as his target hit the ground.

 

“See now, big brother, aren’t you glad I made you go through the proper protocols to arm yourself?” Octavia gloated in their ears and Clarke laughed, the adrenaline of the moment causing a high of sorts in her chest.

 

“Affirmative, O, now let’s get these assholes, so I can get my wife back to her exhibit.”

  
  


\----

  
  


The swirling lights were making her dizzy, so Clarke decided to take a seat on the back of the ambulance, watching as Bellamy chatted with a paramedic about the scrape on his arm.

 

Honestly, as fun as this had been, the adrenaline was crashing through her body like a tidal wave, and now all she could think about was getting her husband and heading back to the hotel to sleep for the next twelve hours until it was time to go to the airport.

 

She smiled slightly as she watched him raise a hand and rake his fingers through his curls, nodding at whatever the other man was saying.

 

It was funny, really, how much this little adventure reminded her of their first one, all gunfire and mayhem.

 

After they had recovered the Vermeer, they had gone on several trips to find more lost pieces. Tips had started coming in from all over the place and they were still on a high from that first time, so they took most of them.

 

But these days, Bellamy was too busy teaching and she was swamped at the museum, and it seemed like they just didn’t have time to go to the  _ movies, _ much less traipse off across the world to throw themselves headfirst into certain danger.

 

When Roan had showed up in Bellamy’s classroom, promising it would be easy, she had coaxed Bellamy into it, thinking Roan was being truthful.

 

She was an idiot, really. 

 

Of course Roan was downplaying the case.

 

So here they were, still in Ireland, her phone buzzing out of control with text messages from who she was certain was Lincoln back home and they had barely finished the job in time to make their flight.

 

Still, as she took in the scene before her, she couldn’t help but bite down on her lip as flashes of memory drifted in and out of her consciousness.

 

_ Clarke petulantly following Bellamy to the Airport. _

 

_ Meeting Murphy the first time. _

 

_ Visiting Dante’s club, pretending to be a couple…. _

 

She paused at that one, remembering how she had fallen asleep on the train ride in France and the way Bellamy had seemed  _ off, _ telling her that she talked in her sleep.

 

He’d brought it up again once they had returned home, after a few months.

 

She’d woken up one morning and walked into the living room to find Bellamy eating a bowl of cereal on the couch, watching “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom”  _ again. _

  
  


_ “You know. I’m kind of regretting introducing you to the franchise. How many times have you watched them all now?” she mused, walking into the kitchen to pour her own bowl of sugary goodness. _

 

_ She could see Bellamy shrug out of the corner of her eye as he responded. _

 

_ “You’ve created a monster, obviously.” _

 

_ Clarke could feel his eyes on her form as she made her breakfast but she refused to give him the satisfaction of her attention until she was good and ready, walking toward the couch with her own bowl. _

 

_ “What?” she asked, his gaze unwavering and an amused smile on his lips. _

 

_ “You were talking in your sleep again.” he said, smug tone bleeding through. _

 

_ “Oh?” she responded, raising an eyebrow and feigning innocence. _

 

_ “Yeah. Must’ve been a pretty good one. I don’t even think I’ve heard you make that noise while awake.” _

 

_ She rolled her eyes and took a bite of her Frosted Flakes before responding. _

 

_ “What do you want from me? Isn’t it enough that you have some innate need to make me come multiple times during every session? I always rise to the occasion, don’t I?” she grinned, her teeth showing as she continued to eat. _

 

_ “That you do, Princess.” he paused for a moment. “Do you remember that time in France? The train ride?” _

 

_ She paused, putting her spoon in her bowl to rest as she gave him her full attention. _

 

_ “Yeah.” she mused, her finger tapping her chin as she pretended to have to think about the incident he was referring to. “If I recall, I took a nap and woke up to a moody Bellamy who apparently didn’t like what he heard as I was sleeping.” _

 

_ Bellamy huffed, leaning his head against the back of the couch at her pointed stare. _

 

_“It wasn’t that I didn’t like what I heard.” he turned his head to look toward her then. “It was that I_ ** _did_** _like what I heard.”_

 

_ Clarke gave him a confused look, obviously not understanding what he was getting at, so he sat up straighter and lifted his head off the couch, his hand grabbing her own and pulling it into his lap. _

 

_ “At that point, we still weren’t even  _ **_friends,_ ** _ really. And-” he paused. “And you said my name. While you were sleeping, you said my name. And you just sounded so happy. And then you smiled. I realized then that I wanted you to always say my name that way and that I wanted to make you smile like that for the rest of your life.” he said softly, vulnerability gazing from his eyes. “When you woke up, I realized that would probably never happen and that made me upset.” _

 

_ Her hand drifted up to push his hair from his eyes, her palm cupping his cheek and her thumb rubbing light circles on his freckled skin. _

 

_ “But it  _ **_did_ ** _ happen.” she said, smiling. _

 

_ “Yeah.” he breathed. “Yeah, it did.” _

  
  


The sound of the blaring siren of the police car driving away brought her back to the present as she refocused and realized that Bellamy was now walking toward her.

 

“What did he say?” she asked, her fingers tracing over the bandage covering his scrape.

 

“Told me to put some ointment on it everyday until it healed, but it should be fine as long as it doesn’t get infected.” he shrugged before joining her on the bumper of the ambulance. “What were you thinking about?”

 

She smiled, looking at him with all the affection she was feeling.

 

“The first adventure.” she admitted. “This one was a lot like that.”

 

Bellamy snorted, his arm coming up to drape across her shoulders.

 

“If by that you mean the two of us getting shot at  _ again, _ then yeah. Carbon copies. Other than that? I don’t know.” he grinned. “That first adventure was pretty special.”

 

She sighed, leaning into him and biting her lip as she felt him kiss the top of her head.

 

“Yeah.” she murmured. “Like you said, we did fall in love on that one.”

 

She could feel him deeply sigh, his chest rising and falling against her cheek.

 

“Princess,” he started. “I fall in love with you all over again every day.”

  
  


\----

  
  


The last ambulance was finally pulling away and Clarke could feel the adrenaline rushing from her body, leaving only a tired shell in its place. She knew that they would have plenty of time to rest before heading to the airport, but she was still anxious to get to the hotel.

 

Before she could bring it up to Bellamy, a nondescript black van pulled up directly in front of them and she sighed, having momentarily forgotten the entire reason they were there.

 

The door slid open revealing a very amused looking Octavia, eyebrow raised, a sly grin on her face.

 

“Took you guys long enough.” she drawled, jumping out of the van and moving to stand in front of the two of them. “Did you get it?”

 

Bellamy nodded, reaching into their rental car and pulling out the rolled up tube from the back seat and handing it to his sister.

 

“Thank you.” Octavia said happily, plucking the tube from his hands. “We’ll take care of the locals once the bad dudes wake up.”

 

She placed the painting in the back of the van before turning around once more.

 

“‘Bad dudes?’ How long have you been in the FBI now? They haven’t trained that terrible terminology out of you?” Bellamy asked, amused.

 

Octavia shrugged.

 

“I’m effective. As long as I do my job, they leave me alone.” she remarked before turning to Clarke. “Lincoln says to get your ass back home. He’s not covering the entire exhibit by himself.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes at Octavia’s grinning face.

 

“He would be fine without me, but please let him know that I’ll be there. Also, the next time he blows my phone up on one of these trips, I’m leaving it at the hotel.”

 

Octavia’s grin widened, her eyes flickering to Bellamy and back to Clarke.

 

“Next time, huh? That much fun?”

 

Bellamy scoffed and turned away from his sister, moving to open the driver’s side door of the vehicle.

 

“Goodbye, Octavia.” he said, his deep voice tired from the stress of their adventure.

 

“Bye, big bro!” she cheerfully exclaimed before jumping back in the van and winking at Clarke as the door slid shut.

 

Clarke shook her head, walking to her own side of the vehicle and sitting in the front seat.

 

She hummed as Bellamy started the car, putting their destination into the GPS system. Taking her phone from her pocket, she giggled at the number of text messages from Lincoln before she tapped the message icon, ignoring them completely, and navigated to Roan’s name.

 

“Letting him know Octavia has the painting?” Bellamy asked as he pulled out into the empty street, the hazy glow of the twilight filtering in through the front window ahead of them.

 

“Yepp. Can’t have him nagging us later while we’re trying to sleep.” she mumbled.

 

Bellamy chuckled under his breath and she looked up at him with a questioning eyebrow.

 

“Sleep, huh? Our first trip back to Ireland in three years and you want to  _ sleep? _ ” his voice was gravelly and suggestive and she rubbed her thighs together at his tone.

 

“You’re not sleepy?” She asked, her own voice taking on a different quality at his suggestion.

 

Bellamy hummed then, his hand leaving the center console and coming to rest on her bare thigh, squeezing softly, his fingers tracing back and forth over the skin of her inner thigh.

 

“I just know that the last time we were here, all I could think about was all of the things I wanted to do to you.” he glanced over at her briefly. “The look in your eyes as you took in all of the beautiful parts of my favorite country… It was when I knew without a doubt that you were it for me. As if I didn’t know before then, that just confirmed it.”

 

Clarke smiled softly, her hand coming to rest on top of his, her fingers threading as she held his tightly.

 

“Me too.” she whispered.

 

Looking up and out her window, she noticed that they were entering the countryside and leaving the city. She couldn’t help but admire the beautiful rolling green hills surrounding them.

 

The first time she came here, she hadn’t wanted to leave. She had loved Ireland  _ so _ much.

 

And she still did.

 

Her heart was breaking just knowing that they were going to have to leave in less than twenty four hours. It felt like they had only just gotten here, and they had spent the entire time trying to recover the painting. 

 

“You know, next time we come here, it would be nice if it could be for leisure.” she turned to look at Bellamy’s profile. “Just you and me, enjoying the most beautiful place on Earth.”

 

He smiled, squeezing her thigh once more.

 

“That’s not a bad idea.” he mused.

 

They continued driving for about thirty minutes before Clarke realized that they weren’t headed in the direction of their hotel.

 

She looked confusedly out the window, taking in the beautiful views of the ocean, the cliffs falling off into the sea.

 

“Not that I don’t highly enjoy this view” she began. “But we aren’t going to the hotel, are we?”

 

Bellamy laughed.

 

“I wondered how long it would take you to pick up on that.”

 

She turned in her seat, sending a glare his way.

 

“It wouldn’t kill you to keep me in the know on your plans?” she said, her tone only a pretend-angry.

 

He shrugged unapologetically.

 

“I sent a text to your mom and she took care of things for me. I wanted it to be a surprise.” he looked at her from the side of his eyes which were now carefully trained on the ever turning road in front of them. “Something special for our first trip back to the place where it all started.”

 

She smirked, leaning back in her seat as she continued to stare at him.

 

“Technically, that trip started in London.”

 

He rolled his eyes, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the steering wheel.

 

“Maybe. But  _ really _ it started here. This is where my overwhelming charm finally started to get to you.” he grinned.

 

Clarke huffed, reaching over to slap his arm just a little more roughly than could be considered playful.

 

“Whatever.” she mumbled, her eyes searching his clenching jaw. “But if we are being technical, your overwhelming charm had gotten to me long before then.”

 

His eyes found hers.

 

“Is that so?”

 

She laughed and turned to her window again, ignoring his smug face.

 

“You know that, asshat.”

 

His hand drifted up her thigh and back, soothing and arousing at the same time.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Five minutes later they pulled onto a gravel drive and Clarke sat up, paying attention to their path.

 

The little driveway stopped at a beautiful home. It had a fairytale quality to it, crawling ivy and all, and she gasped at how magnificent it was.

 

“Bellamy.” she whispered, staring out the window at the towering house, the ocean behind it and the setting sun just hidden by its shadow.

 

“Come on.” he squeezed her hand and opened his door, jogging around to open hers as well.

 

He took her hand and pulled her impatiently to the back of the house and suddenly she was transported out of her body to another realm altogether.

 

It was unlike anything she’d ever seen.

 

A complete unobstructed view of the ocean, the waves below them crashing ceaselessly into the shore as the sun just peaked out above the horizon.

 

She felt Bellamy pull her into his side, her head resting on his chest as she took in the beautiful view.

 

This was it.

 

This was where she was meant to be.

 

Here, in this place, with Bellamy.

 

“You feel it too, don’t you?” she heard him say, his voice deep and his chest rumbling.

 

“Yeah.” she whispered, confirming his statement.

 

He placed his hand on her hip, turning her to face him, and at that moment, looking up into his equally beautiful face, the glow of the sun highlighting the freckles dusting his cheeks, she never wanted to be anywhere else.

 

“Let’s stay.” she said, her voice breathless and entirely serious.

 

He grinned and she knew that she was being ridiculous, but it was what she felt.

 

“Okay.”

 

She jolted at his response, completely still as his hand came up to brush her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

 

“Okay?” she questioned, her voice disbelieving.

“Okay.” he nodded and she found herself smiling.

 

“Just like that? No reasoning or arguing? No smart remarks about irresponsible spontaneity?”

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, pulling her in closer, his chest pressed against hers as he inhaled deeply, his forehead coming to rest on her own.

 

“I’m standing in the most beautiful place on Earth with the most beautiful woman on Earth. Why would I  _ ever _ want to be anywhere else?”

 

She pulled away, her eyes searching his face, looking for any signs of joke or uncertainty.

 

“But-”

 

He cut her off, leaning forward and capturing her lips with his, his kiss soft and slow, savoring.

 

“No ‘but’s.” he said, pulling away. “Not right now. Just this.”

 

He kissed her again, his hands threading through her hair, pushing it back and gripping her head in his hands as he deepened it.

 

Somehow, they moved, and Clarke found herself pressed into a soft surface. Coming up for air, she realized that they were laying on some large outdoor piece of furniture that resembled a bed, hanging from chains. Turning her head as Bellamy began to place kisses down the column of her throat, she could still see the ocean, hear the waves below them.

 

Their hands became more hasty then, his pulling the straps of her tank top down her shoulder, biting lightly at the skin of her breasts, hers pulling his shirt up and off his body and leaving fingernail scratches down the skin of his abdomen.

 

“Fuck.” he muttered, unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs before tossing them to the ground beside them. “This was definitely not in my plan.”

 

She moaned when his lips found her neck once more and his fingers found her arousal, so practiced now, immediately pushing her toward the edge of completion.

 

“It wasn’t?” she asked, finding it hard to breathe as he entered her first with one then immediately with two fingers, his thumb circling lightly on her clit.

 

“Okay, it might have crossed my mind.” he confirmed, his lips find her nipple as his left hand dragged her bra strap down her shoulder as well. “But I thought we might at  _ least _ make it to the bed.”

 

He was attacking that spot inside of her that he knew would get her there fast and she moaned loudly as she found herself seeing stars, her head falling back against the soft surface behind her, barely aware of the sound of him unbuckling his own jeans.

 

“Well.” she gasped as she felt him press inside of her, slowly, lazily. “Maybe next time, take into consideration the romance involved with showing your wife a cliffside view of the Irish coast.”

 

She stopped breathing as he suddenly thrust quickly all the way inside of her.

 

“You’re talking way too much.” he growled, pulling out and thrusting in again. “I’m obviously not doing a good enough job.”

 

He kissed her then, swallowing her snarky response, and set a slow pace of harsh thrusts, just the way she liked it. His hands pulled her hips into his with each one, his thumb leisurely stroking her clit as she started whimpering against his mouth.

 

“Is that it, Princess?” he whispered, pulling away to watch her hastily nod. 

 

He picked up the pace then, eager to bring her to completion once more and she could feel his eyes watching her, even as her own remained closed to his onslaught.

 

“So close.” she said, her voice high and wavering.

 

His mouth found her neck, biting at the tendon there and then soothing it with his tongue. 

 

With one final sweep of his thumb, she shattered again, falling limp against him, her body pressing back into the soft cushion behind them.

 

“That’s it.” he breathed, holding himself inside of her as she pulsed around him and the breath left her body in a slow exhale.

 

He thrust slowly, shallowly a few more times as she lay still beneath him, her hands threading into his hair as she caressed the back of his neck lovingly.

 

“I love you so much.” He said, his voice shaking as he sought his own completion.

 

“I love you more.” She promised, pulling him in to kiss her again as she felt him release inside of her, his thrusts stopping as he slowed their kisses.

 

When he pulled away, he was still breathing heavily and she winced slightly as he pulled out of her.

 

He chuckled slightly, his fingers reaching down to ease her ache.

 

“You laugh,” she mumbled. “But you’re not the one who has an unusually large object shoved inside them on a regular basis.” she sighed as he fell down beside her, pulling her into him and kissing her shoulder.

 

“You like my unusually large object.” he murmured and she could feel his smile against her skin.

 

Laughing lightly, she sat up slightly to finish taking her tank top off before she cuddled into his side again.

 

“Maybe.” she admitted, her own smile hidden against his chest.

 

They lay that way a little while longer, the sun finally setting, the waves a soundtrack to their breathing that was finally evening out.

 

“It’s ours.” she heard him say above her.

 

Her eyes narrowed in confusion as she pushed herself up, a hand on his chest, searching his gaze for clarification.

 

“The house.” he said. “It’s ours.”

 

Eyes widening, her mouth fell open.

 

“What do you  _ mean _ it’s  _ ours? _ ” she gasped, her gaze flickering up to the towering home above them, it’s moonlit shadow falling on their spent bodies.

 

“I mean I  _ bought _ it, Princess.” he grinned.

 

She pushed herself up into a fully upright position, uncaring in her nakedness or the way his eyes drifted down to her swaying breasts.

 

“You bought a  _ house? _ Without  _ telling me? _ ”

 

He sighed, sitting up, his hands finding hers.

 

“I wanted it to be a  _ surprise. _ ” he followed her gaze to the house. “I mean, we can sell it if you want. I had to fight off a few pe-”

 

She cut him off, her lips finding his, swallowing whatever he had been about to say. Pulling away, she shook her head, resting against him.

 

“Absolutely not. It’s perfect. I just-” she paused, considering her words. “I just don’t even know what to say right now.”

 

Bellamy laughed. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

 

She pushed away from his chest, slapping him in frustration.

 

“Ass.” she started as she moved to get up, but he pulled her back into him, kissing her soundly.

 

“But you love me.” he murmured.

 

The corner of her mouth lifted in amusement.

 

“Yeah. I do.”

 

They laid back down then, each of them studying their new home in wonder before Clarke spoke up, unable to hold in her questions any longer.

 

“So where do we go from here?” she asked.

 

“Well. First, we go home. You have an exhibit to do and I don’t think Lincoln will be happy if you leave him hanging.”

 

She huffed unhappily and Bellamy chuckled.

 

“But then we make plans.” he continued. “I’ve already been talking to some of my connections at University College Cork. It’s about a 30 minute drive from here, but that’s not a terrible commute by any means.” he mused. “And with your credentials and some of the largest museums in the world knocking at your door, you could get a job at any place you wanted, really. Or even open your own.”

 

She laid back against his chest, the feeling of his breathing a comfort to her, even after all these years.

 

“So we’re really doing this?” she breathed.

 

“Yeah. We are. As long as you want to.” he said, his deep voice sleepy but pleased.

 

_Did_ _she want to?_

 

She looked over her shoulder at the large back yard, the dark shadow of the ocean just visible over the edge of it.

 

Suddenly, she was bombarded with visions of children running around, chasing one another as she and Bellamy looked on. Sprinklers and wind whipping about them as they played.

 

Yeah, she wanted to.

 

This was where they belonged.

 

“We’ll probably have to build a fence.” she said suddenly. “Can’t have our kids wandering off the edge of the cliff.”

 

In a second, he was hovering over her, pushing her into the cushion, his eyes dark with promise.

 

She laughed.

 

“Already?”

 

His hand traced a line down the side of her torso teasingly.

 

“You know how I get when you start talking about our children.”

 

She rolled her eyes but gasped as his lips found that place behind her ear that made her roll her eyes for a different reason.

 

“You’re such a caveman.” she said, a smile playing at her lips.

 

“Maybe.” he mumbled against her skin.

 

The sound of their phones buzzing from where they’d thrown them on the ground had him reluctantly pushing away, the two of them looking at the offending objects in annoyance.

 

“It’s probably Roan. Or Octavia.” she mused. “Didn’t we say this was ‘one last adventure?’”

 

He looked down at her then, quirking his lips in amusement.

 

“We’re the best. I don’t know that they’ll ever stop knocking at our metaphorical door.”

 

She sighed her, fingers trailing down his cheek.

 

“Well, I guess we better do all we can now. Because once we have children, we won’t-”

 

He cut her off with a kiss and she laughed lightly against him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

 

“What about our phones?” she asked, moaning lightly as his lips moved further down her body.

 

“Later” he mumbled, his lips finally finding their destination.

 

“Later.” she agreed, nodding her head as she suddenly found herself unable to speak.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tear*
> 
> I just love these two so much.
> 
> They are so much fun to write.
> 
> Next up on my writing checklist is the next installment to my RomComREMIX series, so make sure you have notifications turned on for that!
> 
> And then...
> 
> My next long fic!
> 
> This time I will be dabbling in the realm of FANTASY AU.
> 
> It's gonna be a DOOZY, y'all.
> 
> In the meantime, find me on twitter @mallidaywrites.
> 
> Until next time....
> 
>  
> 
> -Mally


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